Lords of Chaos
by Shadoobie
Summary: Somewhere over the Rainbow, so are all joined, so are all doomed. (Actually post XIII-2, but placed here due to incomplete character listing) (Contains ADULT content such as violence, language, and Fanille.)
1. Preface

**Lords of Chaos**

**Preface**

_ Allow me, if you will, a simple pleasure. As you see, I am but a humble messenger. A story teller, and I have many a tale I must yet share. Perhaps you would hear? Yes? Best have a seat and be content then, as it is a breathy one. Now let me see, where to begin?_

_ Ah yes..._

_ Once upon a time..._

_ There was Chaos. A great seething, teeming darkness at the heart of the void writhed and churned like a storm at the beginning of all things. And then, after a countless millennia that has yet to be determined, had yet to be named, something came out of the maelstrom. It was a light, a tiny star that flickered and danced about the darkness of forever. It was a miracle. And what was equally miraculous, was what became of the little star. It became alive._

_ The star was alive, and it was aware. And in time it gave itself a name._

_ Mwynn._

_ The many untold spirals of time passed and Mwynn grew, and grew, taking form that would constantly change in the beginning, as the Chaos around her changed. Eventually Mwynn had the power to maintain, to remain steady in the shape that pleased her most. A goddess, that is the form she chose._

_ For countless eras it was only Mwynn and Chaos, silent, unchanging in the void. But this made Mwynn weary, forlorn. She _felt_ so alone as Chaos was nothing, certainly no companion. So she pondered for a long, uncounted while, until the idea came that she might make a companion, create a being not unlike herself. Like her, it began as a star, and grew and grew, becoming aware as it pranced about Chaos' mighty folds. In time it too would take shape, and Mwynn would name her son Bhunivelze._

_ But something about Bhunivelze was different. His thoughts and ideas were far from that of his mother's. He saw the nothingness of Chaos in a different light. There was something beyond the veil, something his mother would not explain as anything more than the Visible World. Mwynn would not allow him to touch it, but that failed to sway him from the desire. A desire which grew so vast, like that of Chaos, that it drove him to murder that which had created him. He killed his mother, and with that came a fear that he could not prove or disprove. Bhunivelze was convinced his mother, with her dying breath, had cursed that Visible World, that gem he so coveted. She would have it destroyed just as she had been._

_ But Bhunivelze had a plan._

_ With his mother gone, banished to the Unseen World, he could cross into the Visible World. He stepped away from Chaos to find this new dimension equally empty. For the first time he felt the need to create, not to destroy. And create he did, beginning with a being he named Pulse. He endowed Pulse with a great power, and the Fal'Cie began to conceive creations of his own. Worlds upon worlds, countless forms to linger about the void accompanied by suns and stars and moons. One of these worlds Pulse concealed himself at the center of._

_ But there was still much more to be done, and Bhunivelze was tireless in his work. Next came the Fal'Cie Etro, but at her he found himself disgusted. Without even realizing it, he had created this goddess too greatly in the image of his mother, and it angered him. He cast Etro aside, powerless, adrift in this new realm. In her stead he made Lindzei, and she would mind his many creations as he set about his own task. He would find Mwynn and destroy her utterly, undoing her curse before this realm he had made could be torn asunder._

_ Etro, consumed in great melancholy for being without purpose, tore herself apart, scattering her many fragments into the empty vastness of this new realm._

_ Bhunivelze would hide himself away, and drift into a deep, deep crystal sleep until the gateway to this Unseen realm could be found. And as he slept, dreamed through many an uncounted eon, life would spring up in the Visible World._

_ And as life began, so did Time._

_ When Time began, it was a wheel, and it turned without cease, without hindrance, on and on. No discernible beginning, no foreseeable end. It turned to the beat of life on Pulse, on its once barren face. To the running of water, the churning of oceans, the collision of mighty mountains and the springing forth of all the living and crawling things. Time saw man's first steps, saw the great multitudes that erupted part into many tribes, and saw them grow._

_ Time was a wheel and it turned._

_ But then something strange happened._

_ Time _Changed_._

_ What an audacious thing to say. Time _Changed_. _Time. Changed.

_ And in the midst of man's war, by an act of cowardice. Something so small, seemingly so insignificant as the one who would be the coward._

_ After that, Time became a web. A web woven carefully by that thing called Fate. That thing often thought of by mortals as simple chance, though not always so simple. And certainly not always so hidden. Occasionally it was clear that certain things were set in motion by the gods, those that were not so dormant as their maker. Such as the redemption of Lindzei's nest, Cocoon, and the reward bestowed upon those who saved it._

_ But then something else happened, something no one could have foreseen._

_ Time stopped. Equally audacious. _Time Stopped. Time. Stopped._ It was _Undone_. Dissolved as a spider's web at dawn. Undone by the one who was loved by the goddess Etro. The deity, torn apart in her despair, had come to favor a man of great strength and supposed integrity, and gave him her heart. But her gift had not satisfied him, it was not enough. He disavowed it, worked it towards its own destruction, and with that act allowed Chaos to enter._

_ Now, all that remained was the Unseen Realm that had encompassed all of the Visible World, all of Time. That place of perpetual twilight and decay, Etro's former seat._

_ That place called Valhalla._

_ The realm of mortals, like Time itself, was no more._

_ It was a grand calamity that even Etro's chosen protector could not stop._

_ And if she could not...then what could be done at all?_

Author's Note: And thus it begins once again. If you're new to my work, hope you enjoy, you're in for a long journey if it pleases you to return. If you've read my stuff before, welcome back and I extend the same well wishes. This is going to be an adventure/drama/quest fic, and I hope you're of the mind for it. Lightning won't be around much, sorry, but that's just how it is, and this will not in any way coincide with Lightning Returns. The fic will not be displayed in the same way as the preface, this was just to sort of set the mood in a particular way. The rest of the story will continue as usual, though there may be vestiges of this "narrator" at the beginning of some chapters. Also, world hopping coming up. Just a friendly warning.


	2. Chapter 1

**Lords of Chaos**

**Chapter One**

_The sea of Infinity, the shores of Eternity, it is where they meet, in the dismal shallows, that our tale continues._

Timeless, unchanging, still, and yet this realm _seethed_.

That silvery, cold sea was not empty. It was littered with the remnants of times gone by, time gone. The towers of temples from the past toppled and on their sides, the waters crashing against them in their fractured misery. The despairing, skeletal remains of a hopeful and lofty sphere that didn't survive its ascension bobbed about the endless current, drawing neither nearer nor farther from the shores. Relics discarded upon their consumption by the yet echoing force called Chaos, as not only had it swallowed an entire world, an entire realm, but every thread of time that ever passed over it. Past, present, future. It was devoured whole.

The silver skies still echoed, thundered, trembled with the sound of tolling bells, the remnants of Time's rending. Time's death rattle.

And while this was undeniably true, there was yet life that remained. Chaos had not only devoured Time, most of it being wiped from the face of reality, but all else it changed if not destroyed utterly. Pulse had been reduced to a darkened marble floating about its own realm, a stretching waste of timelessness, but not all of its inhabitants were lost. They were simply...different. Some were turned into something else entirely, resembling not at all what fate had dictated them to originally be. Others were turned inside out, their true nature laid bare, and became it in its truest, rawest form. The rest were twisted, remade, unrecognizable as anything...natural. Lastly there were those creatures that were already dwelling among the ruins of Valhalla, the fiends that had once heeded the call of mighty warriors that strove to undo one another. They still lingered about, aimless, instinctual. They wandered about the island that lay at the heart of the desolate sea, that cradle of what was once Etro's seat. No telling why, if not for the simple reason of hunting one another. And then there were the unknown things that coursed beneath the surface of the water, great behemoths both nameless and limitless in size and face. Only the gods, what few were left now, knew of the truth of them.

Focus now, if it pleases you, onto a particular collection of debris that had settled on the surface. At first glance one would think it the remnants of some metallic creature's shell, the shards mangled and twisted, half dissolved by the forces that consumed it at Time's end, pocked with decay. It looked to have had most of it melted away, or even gnawed. It had once been part of a ship, the outward bend of its hide.

And something stirred inside.

Something that wasn't an aimless creature, but something more...familiar. Whatever it was, was human. Or, as I should say, _they_ were human. There was a shimmer of light, a strange sound hanging in the air akin to small wind chimes, and then things were still. But for only a moment. Ripples formed at the edges of the wreckage as movement caused it to shift about.

They, as there were two, took caution where they stood as they looked out across the vast _empty_ that lay before them. Empty, save for the distant island. What a miserable vision it was, the stuff of nightmares. And in their previous state, that of mystic crystal, they had hoped it would simply stay the stuff of bad dreams.

One was taller than the other, her posture resolute though visibly troubled as was her countenance. Her green eyes were dim with dismay, her brow low and knit in the center. She brushed at the wild dusky tresses that hung about her face, a stray gesture perhaps meant to unconsciously distract her from the desperate state of things. Her lips thinned into a hard line. There simply were no words, nothing to say or needed said in order to sum up the situation.

The other, also female and perhaps a head shorter, looked noticeably more upset, her gentle features turned with heartbreak, the similar emerald hue of her eyes becoming misty with the onset of tears. Her arms crossed her chest as she took a quiet, deep breath, and her entire frame shivered. So this is what had become of it all? It hadn't just been a horrible dream?

And once the initial horror of what they beheld subsided, a unanimous inquiry worked its way into their minds, and at the same moment.

What now?

"Don't suppose we should linger out here," the taller one breathed, brow still low. "Best to do is get on solid ground."

And then, beneath them, up from the depths, came a long, grinding groan that sounded too real, too alive to ignore. There was a ripple in the water, a raising of the waves in a bow shape that concealed something akin to a spiny ridge of scales. Maybe even a fin or two.

"Well...swimming's out of the question." the shorter one swallowed, looking back with a mote of fear visible on her soft features.

A nervous chuckle from the other. "I think ya may be on to somethin', Vanille." She stretched back her arm, over her head to grasp a hefty lance she carried on her back and loosed it from its holster. She allowed one end to ease into the water, and with a shrug used it to paddle them onward, towards the lonely island.

"It seems so far." it was a sad sigh of a statement.

"Not much choice, I'm afraid." there was an audible push to her response. "It's better than stayin' put."

Vanille's brow lowered, feeling difficulty in finding purchase in the response. Then again, a lot of things weren't fitting together properly already, so that came as no surprise.

By all rights they shouldn't be here in the first place. They should've disappeared along with their reality, their realm and time, and yet here they were in this gods-forsaken place. Why? What had gone so cosmically awry that they would still exist and in their given forms whilst all else had...changed? Part of her hoped there was a reason, that it wasn't just random chance, and the other part feverishly prayed that this was just a dream. And that, like it had been for so many centuries, it would in time give way to another dream. Mayhaps a better one.

"Fang?"

"Yeah?"

"...I'm scared." and it wasn't the seemingly basic, almost childlike fear of some unseen danger, but the genuine terror of an unknown fate.

"I know." and while Fang didn't further vocalize to make the fact known, the feeling was mutual. She had her own brand of fears, the lot of them coupled with confusion and dread. However, frustration was boiling up underneath those emotions, and under that, a simmering fury over being caught up in something much too big. Something she knew just the two of them couldn't handle, but would most likely have to all the same. It made her jaw tighten.

Minutes, days, years, even eons could have and did pass in the time it took the two to reach the island, had there been time to measure. And even if there had been, there would have been no sensation of it, no feasible presence. No hunger, no fatigue, no graying of the hair. Nothing. They simply were, and they had no mind of time's absence.

The argent sands gave under their weight as they jumped cautiously from the wreckage that had carried them, and they took their first inquisitive steps forward, eyes and chins rising to take in the landscape before them. A great crag, a sheer cliff with awesome fractures that seemed to lead ever upward and over the brink in hints were the structures that rested at the top. Vanille felt her heart sink a little further at the sight of it. Fang sneered at the rugged face, her fists on her hips. You'd think she was mad at it, but at this point, she was just mad altogether. Just pick a reason why.

"There's an easier way." Fang shook her head once, turning on her heel to start walking along the beach.

"How do you know?" Vanille asked as she jogged a few steps in order to catch up.

"I don't. That's just what I'm tellin' myself." and she could only hope that her notions were true.

There was no telling how great in size the island was, certainly not from the beach, but that was certainly part of a long list of unimportant things at this point. The pair of them walked the perimeter all the same, never mind how far, never mind if they ever found what they sought much less anything that would give way to the heads or the tails of this...mess. The only evidence that they were making any distance at all were the sparse sightings of the creatures that inhabited this realm. Swarms of flying, what looked to be insects, that moved about overhead, shimmering and chattering in a cloud, and the tracks of large gods-knew-what in the sand alongside their own footprints.

After a fashion, however, the peak of the cliff began to diminish, bits at a time. In some places it was uneven, dipping and then shooting upward that much higher than it started, that much more perilous to behold. But in the end it descended, down, down, until it was level with the beach, and it was here that began the dismal pathway into the seemingly vacant city bloated with innumerable ruins. And at it's end was that once shining temple, Etro's Palace.

Fang paused a moment to take it in, a slight quirking to the edge of her mouth. Somehow, perhaps in a small way, she had expected more of this Unseen Realm that the priests of her time went on and on about, like it was some big deal. Yet, from where she stood, it looked to be little more than a forgotten dream, or lost memory. Although that was very much true. Many dreams, many memories had been demolished here, swallowed whole, left for dead.

Vanille had a horrible sensation in her stomach about the place, now that she could see all of its desolate columns and weary shadows. Like there was something lurking within the structures, something no one should ever perceive in any form. Her better judgment screamed for her not to take a single step further, to turn and run and hide. There was a mild quivering in her knees, as if her legs were about to take flight whether she wanted to or not. However, when Fang began to walk again, along that straight path into those towering remains, she couldn't help but follow. And that feeling in her gut only worsened once their footsteps exchanged from sand to stone.

Fang was beginning to feel something too, a tightness in her skin that made her sense that something was watching her. Warily she looked about as she walked, Vanille close behind, but saw nothing. A flickering shade, a trick of light perhaps- what little light there was in this place of perpetual twilight-, but otherwise it was all wandering suspicion. Though both of them were thoroughly convinced that they were anything but alone. Something was here, something that, at the very least, gave off the impression of life.

Vanille suddenly stopped, her body overcome with a sudden shiver, the feeling of a blunt claw dragging slowly up her spine. Her body bowed, then hunched suddenly forward, and she held onto herself with a squeak of surprise.

Fang froze, turning on her heel in a flash of movement. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know," was Vanille's slow response. She was rubbing her eyes now. "Felt like...someone just walked over my grave." They had suddenly started watering, almost burning.

"You okay?"

Vanille rubbed her eyes almost curiously with her fists, pressing until the sensation ebbed. Then she straightened, blinking, painless tears falling down her cheeks. "I...I don't know what that was. It's gone now." though she could feel the onset of pressure in her forehead.

"Good, maybe it won't come back." there was noticeable concern in Fang's voice, circling the diminished relief. "Let's keep movin'...don't like the feel of this place."

And the pair would find it significantly less agreeable when it became apparent what had just occurred. Nothing, divine or mortal, remained unchanged amidst the touch of Chaos. The only real question was how. Mark my words, the two were just as vulnerable to it as any other who had already succumb, they just weren't aware of the extent.

That feeling of being watched had been very well founded. Very well indeed. Valhalla had, after all, been for so many eons the realm that housed the souls of the dead. That was perhaps the only thing that Chaos had not changed, and had only supplied the Unseen Realm with that many more.

Shades were everywhere, and Vanille could see them as they drew deeper into the city. Black and faint shapes moving about, aimless, voiceless, seemingly lost. Shadows, many of them simply unaware of their current state. They were out of place, out of their time, and their reality was so skewed. They existed and yet were not there. Vanille was forced to stop once, her expression stretching, lips parting in a silent gasp as she looked about, seemingly at nothing.

"What is it now?" there was a hint of frustration in the other woman's voice, and the dusky tresses that framed her face only seemed to intensify the mild tightening around her eyes.

Vanille didn't answer right away, her expression holding as she watched a small multitude of shades walk right through Fang, the lot of them unaware of each other.

"You...don't you see them?"

"See who? It's just us,"

Again silent as another shade walked through Fang, and then through Vanille, and she felt that horrible shiver again.

"You feelin' all right?" Fang stepped towards her, putting her hand against the younger girl's forehead as if checking for a fever. "Need to sit down a minute?"

Vanille was very quick to shake her head no, there wasn't a chance in hell she'd be able to sit still. She just wanted to move on, get away from this if there was a way. And move on they did, and Vanille simply did her best not to notice. Mind you that was much easier considered than done. All the while Fang worried. Things were bad enough already, she didn't need -much less want- for something to happen to Vanille. Should that be the case, there would be little more Fang could do than call it quits.

Fang tried to push the idea from her mind with staying focused on the path ahead of them, the linear walkway lined with decrepit stone structures on either side of varying sizes and degrees of decay. It would eventually lead to Etro's Palace. Why there? Why not? Where else was there to go? But that aside, Fang could vividly recall dreams of the mystical place while she slept away the passed several millennia in crystal. She felt a faint draw to it, and thought it better than sitting on their rumps on the beach. Naturally, being idle was _not_ Fang's idea of a good time.

Forward, forward still through the seen and unseen shades and passed the city to the beginnings of the palace grounds. Even from here a glance in almost any direction would offer a stunning view of the sea, or it would've been stunning under normal circumstances. In this case it just looked...bleak. No doors or blockades barred their progress, so the pair entered the palace with little delay than what was caused by contemplative address to the sea beyond the cliffs.

Their steps echoed through the empty, stone hewn corridors within the palace, and it was only here that they actually felt alone. There were no shades to see, no strange sensations of some hidden voyeur, and no skittering creatures lurking about the halls. This place felt completely abandoned, and yet it hummed with the vestiges of an extinguished power. One would think the pair would get lost in the vastness of it all, what with every bend and corner looking identical to the last, but they stayed an unknown course without thinking twice as to whether or not it was the right one. They simply went forward.

In time, if you would bother to count it, they would arrive in the heart of the palace, the throne room. And the air was chilled here, as were the emotions that suddenly ripped through the pair of them.

So it was true, the dreams weren't just dreams.

Lightning had failed. Even when they had so much faith in her.

Their eyes rose as one to behold the somber testament to the chosen warrior's efforts, her crystalline statue seated upon the throne, her visage one of almost contemplative if not regretful sleep.

Vanille could feel the swelling urge to cry, feeling suddenly so helpless. The only emotion Fang could manage to muster was a low simmering fury, and it became steadily more visible as thin lines formed around her eyes, her brow lowering. She could feel her hands clenching at her sides.

How could it have happened this way? How could she...

How could she have just given up?

From their crystalline repose the two of them had bore witness to the events that unfolded just before Chaos ripped through to their world. They saw the great many battles between Lightning and Caius Ballad, one after the other as they ended in a decided stalemate, neither taking or giving significant ground. But then it came about that the eldest Farron would learn of her younger sister's tragic fate, her death at Lightning's behest in the form of a mission to restore the many distortions in Time. Then the warrior yielded, retreated to her patron deity's temple and, as we see now, became an epitaph to her sibling's sacrifice.

Fang remembered the visions with piercing clarity, remembered vague feelings at the images that gripped her even from within the deep throws of her imposed slumber. Pity, fear, anger, an ever mounting frustration, and they had refused to fully ebb.

"W-what...what do we do now?" Vanille turned away from the silent throne, her eyes seeming to shimmer with the onset of tears that were already evident in her voice.

It was only now that Fang's grimace eased, softened into something akin to uncertain frailty. She took a deep breath, holding onto it momentarily. "What _is_ there to do? I mean...we're all that's left." and she looked miserably upon the statue, into the face of one she had once regarded with such respect and trust. Now there was contempt. "And _this_ is all there is."

Vanille shook her head slowly, her expression tightening. "That _can't_ be..." and the testament sounded strangely hopeful, no hints of denial as would typically be expected in such a situation. "It just _can't_." and the prayer was a desperate one, offered up to anyone, _anything_ that might answer.

And then there was a flicker of light.

Vanille thought it was something else, a flickering off the crystal throne, but it couldn't have been. She saw it again after a moment of close inspection from where she stood, a glowing that drifted between the columns on the far side of the chamber, and it was an almost beckoning emerald color.

"Fang?"

She had to consciously pull herself from her silent and heated brooding, blinking momentarily at the sound of her partner's voice. "Wassat?"

"Do you see it?" and Vanille pointed towards a row of columns.

"What, more spooks?" Fang took casual steps to stand beside her, eyes fixed on the shadows between the bracing structures. She squinted, her face stretching with surprise as she spotted the green orb bobbing in the air. "I'll be damned...yeah, I see it."

"What do you think it is?" Vanille asked in a wary hush.

"Dunno...sure as hell can't answer that from here." and Fang smirked, stepping passed her, a determined hunch to her stature as she started towards the light. With a squeak Vanille began to move as well, hurrying to keep pace as they crossed the span of the chamber. Together they stepped into the shadows of the columns.

They wouldn't be able to follow it very closely at all, could barely keep their eyes on it for more than a moment as it moved just too quickly. There and gone again, ducking in and out of sight. Whatever this thing was, it was intelligent, it was _alive_ in some fashion. Maybe it was an elaborate lure of those time-twisted creatures that wandered out there, and maybe it was hungry. Or maybe it was just something out of place, out of its Time, changed by Chaos into little more than a drifting bauble. It could be nothing. Still, whatever it was, they followed without hesitation.

It would lead them through the twisting, turning bowels of Etro's Palace, as if this structure would need such a place. Tunnels like this were meant to hide in, to seclude oneself out of fear or need of the stabbing quiet. But in a realm of souls, what crowd is there to desire such isolation? In any case, through this underbelly they went, which worked in an eventual circle, leading them back through the throne room and to the palace entrance.

Fang and Vanille waited just within the massive archway as the green light floated out into the courtyard, where it suddenly began to hover, and did so for several seconds. They watched it carefully, thinking themselves unseen and half expecting -sensing- that something was about to happen. And it would, rest assured.

The light began to lower towards the ground, a slight sway in the motion, and it also began to diminish, taking some kind of shape as it lost its intensity. It settled just above the stone of the walkway, the light fading into just a tiny point, a blip, a star that could fit in your pocket of the same verdant coloration. And the shape coalesced into something...something small, the size of perhaps a domestic dog, that is a medium one, and it had two stubby legs with two equally stubby arms. It still levitated, propelled by the almost lethargic movements of small and leathery wings on its back. And they could see that it was somewhat furry, and white, and the green light finally reduced itself to a small gem that had perched itself over the creature's head.

It was a moogle.

But still the two of them only watched, silent, curious. How could the little sprite have gotten here? An equally valid question is how they couldn't have noticed that it wasn't just the moogle that had wandered onto the palace grounds. It was easily missed by Vanille as this other being had moved amongst the numerous shades, a sea of teeming shadows that had a tendency to obscure other things. But Fang was only just so fixed on the moogle.

A Cie'th, one of the large ghasts now lumbered about the flagstones, seemingly aimless, and only lingering just shy of the palace threshold. Even stranger still, the moogle approached it with clear intent, no show of fear or dismay, and the two appeared to...commune. The towering monster knelt down sluggishly, a lurch of movement, and followed the moogle's fluttering motions.

"Bullshit." Fang whispered, but she was screaming it mentally.

"So it's not just me? You still see them?"

Fang shook her head. Nope, it most certainly wasn't just her, and if she couldn't see them she'd have to be damn blind.

"What should we do?"

"Workin' on it." under normal circumstances, Fang would've been more than happy to just fuck-all and kill the Cie'th...but these circumstances were anything but normal. If they were, likely, this shit wouldn't be happening in the first place.

Fang wouldn't be allowed to finish her thought, as the Cie'th and the moogle had concluded their conversation and now regarded the two of them, though they were convinced they were hidden. The moogle, still hovering, just turned right around and looked into the entryway, its bulbous purple nose situated in between its pudgy cheeks. And while its eyes appeared to remain closed, darkened slits above the bends of its cheeks, it looked directly at them. Then in a zip of light and a flurry of motion it levitated before them, bathing the darkness with the light of its bauble.

"Opo," it said, as if expecting them to perfectly understand. Needless to say they didn't, and for a long while seemed to just gawk back at the creature. "_Opo_," is repeated, this time with some measurable insistence, its tiny limbs flailing in a sort of "let's get going" gesture. Fang and Vanille looked at each other, their joined expressions possibly begging an answer for the quiet question of "the fuck?"

"_Opo_!" apparently the critter had lost its patience, if the tone of its cooing was any indication, and snatched Fang by the front of her sari and jerked her forward, its leathery wings flapping at the speed of sound to pull her along. Fang took Vanille by the wrist at the last possible second, nearly giving her partner a minor case of whiplash. Vanille felt that awful shiver again as she stepped into the waiting sea of shades. The Cie'th would lumber along just behind them as the moogle led them on, back among the ruins of this city of the dead. Fang couldn't help but to look over her shoulder from time to time, still unsure what to make of her present company.

The two Oerbans would find themselves some distance from the palace after a time, the moogle still pulling with honest effort, feeling the need to continually force their cooperation. The squishy imp had an awful lot of attitude for its size. It encouraged them into one of the larger stone structures, an honest attempt at a suitable temple for a demi-divinity of some kind, though there were no reliefs or even worn frescoes of any such being. In fact it appeared completely bare within the columns. At least to Fang it appeared empty.

But Vanille could see the spirits, as could the moogle and the Cie'th that lingered back a shuffle or two. Although something was different here, the shades didn't appear the meander aimlessly, there was a veiled sense of purpose to their motion. In fact they seemed to be gathering around something, or maybe even someone. And there was an odd sense of...warmth in this place.

There was a light among the innumerable shades. Not a bright light, more like a gentle glow, a dying ember, and the shades were drawn to it, as was the moogle and Cei'th it seemed. But clearly there was something particular about this place, this entity, that Vanille and Fang had to be made aware of.

"I'm gettin' the feelin' I'm missin' somethin'." Fang almost shrugged, her brow quirking. "Spooks?"

Vanille only nodded as she took a step forward, now shoulder-to-shoulder with her. "But there's something else."

"What?"

"I don't know."

The Cie'th began moving again, no longer following as it lurched ahead, towards that gentle light that it could see somehow. Its feet dragged across the stone floor to the far corner of the chamber, and there it went still, slumping to the ground and settling against the wall. It released a pitiful moan, an ethereal, mournful, almost apologetic noise. It was then that the moogle started encouraging them again to come forward, to follow with the wriggling of its pudgy hands and seemingly nonsensical cooing. Vanille showed more willingness to do so while Fang was reasonably hesitant. Actually she didn't much move at all, frozen with evident confusion, her arms crossed. Sure enough she could sense something was here, but her inability to see it made things exceedingly difficult for her to wrap her head around.

This entity took more definite shape as Vanille approached it, drawing closer. It was discernible as human, though the finer features were somewhat fuzzy. But there was no threat, no malicious intent to be determined. Completely the contrary. It was somewhat welcoming, almost beckoning as the moogle brought Vanille closer. The darkened shades seemed to part, move aside to allow her access to this illuminated figure. A figure, she would discover, that she recognized. The astonishment at the revelation was brief, but profound, the shock having her put her palm over her mouth to muffle a gasp momentarily.

Serah Farron. The only one to see the doom of the realm before it happened, the traumatic vision having snuffed out her life force like a candle.

_I had hoped it was you._

Vanille's brow cinched in the middle, curious as the words came like a daydream thought, not spoken words.

Serah's spirit looked away for just a moment, towards Fang, showing her own curiosity as she looked back to Vanille.

_She can't see me?_

Vanille shook her head. "I don't know why...or how I can."

_I can feel Yeul about you._

"The Seeress?"

_We're all connected somehow, even now, like this. Maybe she knew._

"Like possession?" the idea made her wince inwardly.

_No, nothing like that. More like...something like a fingerprint._

That didn't help. Vanille took a breath, feeling somewhat overwhelmed all of a sudden. "What are you doing here?"

_This is my place now, though I felt...compelled to be here in particular. Something..._ there was a look of contemplation. _There's still something going on._

"But what? There's nothing here...just us."

_No._ The spirit responded quickly, shaking her head. _As empty as this place seems, there are others._

"Well...the moogle, and..." and Vanille regarded the Cei'th for all of half a second.

_Noel._

"What?"

_Chaos...changed him. It was horrible._ And the pity in the echoing thought was palpable as the spirit looked down at the tormented creature that had settled close by. _And the moogle, too, but I don't know who or what he used to be, and he can't seem to remember either. Chaos changed everything._

Vanille was suddenly consumed with the unmeasurable terror of the consideration of what Chaos may have done to her and Fang. How had they been changed? And had it ceased with simply rousing them from their crystal stasis, or had it yet to manifest?

_But I don't think any of this is random. There's a reason._

"Reason or not...what can _we_ do?" and the question a valid one, as valid as it sounded hopeless.

_I don't know._

That was certainly not the answer she was looking for.

_But...there are others on this island somewhere. I can feel them moving. Maybe they could help you...whatever they are._

Vanille swallowed. She didn't like the sound of that much at all.

T_here has to be a way to change this...to put time back together again. There has to be, I don't think you and Fang would be here as you are if there wasn't._ And the spirit lifted its ethereal eyes to settle squarely on the living girl. _Caius is still out there somewhere. This _can't_ be the end._

Vanille felt her heart twist. All she could think to say was, "Not too sure what we could do about it but...we'll try."

The spirit smiled warmly, the expression almost haunting. It filled Vanille's heart, made it prick, and she could feel the burn of tears again. She sniffled. "This is all my fault." the young Oerban's face creased with restrained misery, and then her chin dipped towards her chest.. "I'm so sorry."

_That's not important now. It's in the past, and by all rights, the past no longer exists. All you have now is what's in front of you._

But that did nothing to expunge the suffocating guilt. Vanille knew the truth, it was still a bright red mark on her face. But the self-reproach was short lived. The moogle started cooing again, somewhat wildly, and appeared to do so directly towards Serah. The spirit regarded the imp, nodding occasionally without a word.

_He's going with you._

"Huh?"

_Just that. He wants to go along. Why not? I suppose you guys could use all the help you can get._ And there was an echo of a giggle as the moogle lowered through the air to hover beside Vanille's shoulder.

"Opo." the moogle seemed to agree with a nod of its head, the bauble swaying with a glimmer.

Vanille looked at the imp and then back at the spirit, curious. "O-okay." but then she shrugged. "I still don't think I really understand."

_That never stopped us before, did it?_ And while there was hope in the rhetoric, there was still a mild despair. Like Serah was well aware how horrible the odds were against them and this could very well be their last chance. Chance at what? Well that was the worst of it. There was no way to know for sure. _I mean...we can't do _nothing._ Even if there's the slightest chance._

"I know. I just...it seems so..."

_Big. I know. Still...I have faith in you._

Vanille nodded slowly, still unsure, her thoughts buzzing.

_Have you been to the palace?_

The question after so long without a word seemed to take Vanille off guard a little. She hesitated, trying to find the words to respond.

"Haven't you?"

_I tried but...something...kept me out. I have this feeling...Lightning is there, but what if she doesn't want me to see her like that?_

Vanille thought the idea only slightly preposterous, for obvious reasons. Although she could still understand if that was indeed the case.

"I wish I knew." and it was the honest to gods truth.

The spirit's sadness steadily shifted to a forced feeling of optimism. _But I've kept you too long already. You should get going. Though...I have a favor._

"Anything."

_Could you...if you see him,_ the hesitation was painfully evident, the words apparently much too tough. _Tell Snow what happened...that I still love him._

Vanille felt her eyes threatening to tear again. "Of course. But...you're right. If we're going to find these 'others', we should be on our way." as much as she didn't want to go. There was some sort of security in a familiar face, a comfort she wasn't entirely eager to let go.

The spirit nodded slowly. _It was good to see you again. Hopefully it won't be the last time._

And there they parted, Vanille forcing herself to turn away and to begin walking again with the moogle close by, near her shoulder. Though her steps felt and looked so heavy. She watched her steps until she stood before Fang, only then could she raise her eyes, and would find her partner seemingly in calm anticipation.

"Enjoy your conversation with the wall?" she asked with a little playfulness.

Vanille frowned a little. "That's not funny."

But still she chuckled. "I'm sorry, but have a care, would ya? I'm not seein' what you're seein'. I'm tryin' but,"

"But there's no need to pick on me." and Vanille pouted.

"I apologized, didn't I? Now tell me what all that was about? And what's the sprite still doin' here?"

Vanille did her best to recall everything that she was told, and was only somewhat aware of the many changes Fang's temperament seemed to go through in the short time it took to do so. Starting with sober anticipation, then touched, almost sad, and then varying degrees of confusion. Though she was trying, trying her damnedest to get it through her head. She wanted to understand, she _wanted_ to believe in what she couldn't see.

At the end of the younger Oerban's explanation, Fang took a deep breath, her hands resting on her hips. "Okay, I'll bite. So where do we start lookin'?"

Vanille's features stretched, belying the notion of having yet to consider that detail.

Fang chuckled at the look. "Well, in any case, we sure as hell ain't gettin' anywhere just standin' here." and she put an assuring hand on her partner's shoulder, encouraging her along, back out into the open streets of Valhalla. And the moogle hovered behind.

Author's Note: The first few chapters of everything I have ever written have always been weak, almost haphazard in their construction. I tried, honest I did, but it just happens this way sometimes. Maybe it'll get better in the next chapter. And just to make a note, I'm writing this for fun, but mostly because of how horribly XIII-2 ended. If you don't like it, you know where the door is.


	3. Chapter 2

**Lords of Chaos**

**Chapter Two**

_In the shadow of Chaos' invasion, there is yet...life. And in a realm of supposedly nothing, secrets still reside._

Valhalla was quiet, tomb-like in the stillness of even the air.

Fang focused on the path ahead, the empty streets of the lifeless city, though her mind wasn't as fixed on them as her eyes were. There was far too much to think about. At the top of the list, obviously, was the inquiry as to what the ever blue fuck was going on. Okay, Time unraveled, that was the easy part. Chaos turned all of Pulse into a timeless nether realm, sure, she could bite that with confidence too. But there was more? How could there be more when Time itself was frolicking about like a sheep without a head? Never mind the small clusterfuck of other things buzzing between her ears at the same time.

Vanille was seeing things and there was no real answer as to why. Yeul was suspect, that is according to "Serah", but there was no proof so there was plenty of room for doubt. Still, that didn't help matters much. Chaos was changing things, turning them inside out and worse, so was this just the start of the young girl's change into something...else? If so, was there a way to stop, or at least, slow it down? If something happened to Vanille...Fang would be lost.

And these _others_ she was talking about, what about them? What if these others turned out to be hulking post-historic horrors that just wanted to swallow them whole? Or worse...nothing at all but an empty hope? What then? With all this stacked onto a list of bad shit, you could barely be bothered to consider why she was pressing forward anyhow.

Fang trusted Vanille, felt as though she was telling the honest truth in spite of how out there it seemed to be. That, and there was that tiny glimmer of light in all this darkness that echoed a chance of turning it around, making it right. Even if the odds were against them, their favor paper thin, it was worth a shot. But still she worried deep down to her bones as they paced Valhalla's streets.

"This place is so big...everything looks so...similar." Vanille whimpered a little as they turned a corner, coming to a sort of plaza type area that she swore they had crossed before. "We're getting nowhere."

"Opo," the moogle cooed sympathetically.

"I think you're right. Not from down here we're not." Fang found herself looking up, her arms crossed, and only partially dwelling on a distant minaret of the palace.

"What do you mean?"

Fang seemed surprised when she met her partner's gaze. "Well, squishy there can fly, can't he? Send 'em up a ways and have him take a look."

Vanille glanced back at the imp who at least appeared to return the gesture, seeming curious with a slight tilt of its bulbous head. "Can you?"

"Opo!" came an enthused reply, one pudgy arm swaying in almost saluting gesture as the creature put all its effort into flapping its wing. Sounded like a hummingbird before it was too high up to hear. But a few seconds passed before all the could see of the imp was the glimmer of its bauble. The little light zipped from side to side, out of sight and back again, and then descended. Poor thing shook its head with a defeated whimper.

"Just a whole lotta nothin'? Should've guessed as much."

"But there are a lot of places for things to hide here." Vanille tried to sound hopeful. "Maybe we just need to take a closer look."

Fang shrugged her shoulders. "Not like we ain't got the time."

Then the two turned to continue down the deserted lane, only to pause, finding it no longer so deserted. Something was moving there in the middle of the path, among the stones, more so in the dust between them to be precise. Fang drew her lance with a quickness, stepping between the growing upsurge of dust and her partner who shrank behind her. The moogle barely reacted at all, seeming undisturbed as the dust grew taller and amassed into something. The vague shapes of limbs, a hunched posture, and bony fingers came into focus. Something oddly familiar. A man, or at the very least trying to impersonate a man, an old and long bearded geezer. A milky white pearl formed the single eye, and a cloud of dust came from the nostrils.

"The hell is it?"

"I am your god," it rasped. "What's left of me."

Vanille's hand drifted to her mouth, eyes widening. "Pulse," she breathed.

Fang heard the small gasp, though it took a moment to process. When it did she lowered her weapon, anything but threatened by what remained of the progenitor.

"Chaos got you too, eh?"

"No thanks to you." was the graveled response.

The warrior sheathed her weapon and cocked her hips just so, sneering. "So what, ya came out here just to scold us?"

The sandy lids thinned around the one eye, showing his displeasure. "I came because I had no other choice. Like you I have very little time," a cloud of dust cascaded from his back, spreading like desiccated pixies at his feet. "I will disappear, as will all of this, because of you,"

Vanille felt that single eye zero in on her.

"And that fool, Ballad."

"Caius? He's still around?"

"Oh yes, outside of time, untouched...one with the dark. Now called Fatesbane, Time Eater. Still a fool as far as I see." not to say that was very far now. "And you will stop him. You will undo this, as it is your doing."

Fang scowled at him, Vanille stock still behind her as was the moogle.

"I suppose you're expecting us to just kiss yer feet and say yes sir?"

"Well, considering you have so many other options," the decrepit deity showed a token shine of humor.

"He's right." Vanille whispered over Fang's shoulder, knowing the older Oerban would never admit it.

"I don't have to like it." she looked behind her briefly with a cutting glance. "But, with all due respect, blinky, what the hell are we supposed to do about this? Looks to me like the damage is done."

"There are pockets of time still lingering about the realm, one of them manifesting as a time gate -as you mortals have called them. Though it will not send you through time's flow as the others did."

"Then where does it go?"

"A perfect question." the arid soil cracked a smirk. Cracked literally. "Last I felt of it, it was on the far end of the island, near the sea. One way or another, it should lead you to accord with Caius."

"Just the two of us?" one dusky brow sharpened.

"You have the sprite," Pulse nodded. "I've heard you mortals find them lucky, mayhaps you'll see it true. And there are others. I have already instructed them to do the same as you."

"We haven't even agreed to any of this, pal."

"You haven't turned it down, either." the god grumbled. "Now be off with you." and then pillar of sand collapsed, _pwuff_, a dry cough really. Even the weight of his presence was gone.

"For gods' sake," Fang grumbled, now fully relaxing. "This is such crap."

"But we _have_ been looking for a way out of this. I mean," Vanille paused, "I like it about as much as you."

Arms crossed and head hanging, Fang took a deep breath.

"Maybe this is what Serah meant, maybe she knew,"

For a moment Fang's brows raised, together, then lowered over her eyes again. Seeming unsure.

"Otherwise, what is there?" the redhead caught her partner's gaze, feeling her insecurity.

"Still don't like it." Fang grunted, dropping her hands and beginning to walk. "Can't just stand here, though, with our thumbs in our rumps. How far ya suppose it is?"

"Won't know until we get there." and there was a little giggle, a lightness to her tone now. Perhaps she thought it would help, though she could tell by the heaviness in her partner's expression that it really hadn't.

"Opo?" the moogle cooed curiously, looking -as much as something with such squinted eyes could- at the hume.

And though she didn't understand the question, Vanille still answered. "All we can do is try." she sighed, and began to walk as well.

Their path would take them further and further from the palace, from the empty buildings and wandering shades to where the stone walkways cracked and gave way to raw stone, and the raw stone to sand that steadily grew darker as the sea lapped against it.

For a moment the trio stopped, taking in the emptiness that lay before them as their heads turned to look up and down the beach. Though something over the sea wold catch their attention, a flicker, or should I say a collection of them, hung out over the water and then disappeared. But they would reappear again after several seconds. Or what could be counted as seconds. In the same places, endure for no shorter or greater amount, and then vanish. Why hadn't they noticed them before? Well, because they weren't looking.

"Pockets of time." Vanille said to herself, wondering.

"Ya think maybe our time gate's out there?"

"I hope not," the redhead replied frankly, "but knowing our luck it is."

Fang chuckled, though the sound was empty. Likely she was thinking the same thing. "So do we wait?"

"I don't know." and her pigtails tossed gently with a soft shake of her head. "Maybe Pulse will reappear."

"Or maybe he's just screwin' with us."

"Why would he do that?"

"Why not is a better question. You heard him goin' on and on about how this is all our fault. Not that I'm arguin', but still,"

"Well," Vanille lowered her head, fingers lacing in front of her.

And while the two humes carried on, neither seemed to notice as the little imp hovered away, down the beach. Maybe it was curious, maybe it had seen something among the shallows, among the debris half buried in the sand that piqued its interest. With speculative cooing it drew near the remains of what could have a been a stone wall, likely a barrier of some kind as some of it was intact enough to make such a guess. It fluttered around it for a moment, cautious perhaps, then drifted out of sight for but a moment.

Something lunged at the imp.

"_OPO_!" it screeched. "_OPO-PO_!" followed by a flurry of squeaks reminiscent of some sort of toy as it was ravaged by something with teeth. Its bauble was shimmering, flashing bright in distress.

The two women reacted immediately, dashing to the moogle's aid and drawing their weapons. They caught glimpse of the aggressor as the moogle wriggled away from it, back into view, and it lunged again. Some sort of dog, something big and spotted, teeth flashing as it bit down on the sprite again.

"Hold on, squishy," and Fang swung her lance from high overhead.

Though just as the edge descended, something came between it and the intended target. A blackness that had substance, deflecting the blow with a veil of sparks and impact that pushed the humans back. It spilled over the sand, a whisper against the ground that spread, stilled, and then began to surge upward. Higher and higher, perhaps ten feet, and then it widened. All this in a matter of mere seconds, it formed from a paper thin puddle and shimmered into something else. A behemoth befitting this realm, all silver skinned and mighty in its frame. It snarled and roared, great paws stomping, but it didn't show further aggression than that. It stayed put, more in a defensive stance.

But Fang was a fighter, and she wasn't backing down. Now, even without her L'Cie powers, she was going to press ahead. She locked her weapon across the spread of the monster's horns, and the two twisted against each other, snarling grimaces full of teeth. Vanille acted with a little more discretion -or perhaps fear, drawing back, watching the mess unfold and trying not to panic as she could still here the moogle crying. Though, oddly enough, not in pain. More like sheer terror.

_Oh god, what do we do, what do we do?!_

"_ENOUGH_!" The bellowing shout that halted everything was the first thing to shake the sky other than the dimming knell of bells through the clouds. Even the moogle quieted its squealing as all eyes turned to the remains of the wall, to how the bricks lurched forward and moved in the visage of a face. Masonry gave way to dust as the brick ground together, features moving, one eye blinking. Though it was starting to give way, the old god losing strength by the minute. Pulse was dying. What was once an old man manifested, was steadily becoming skeletal, a portrait of fatality.

"Now listen, all of you," even the deity's voice was faint, like dry leaves sliding over stone. "Caius Ballad has separated himself from time and now dwells outside of it, in Chaos' cradle known as the Nexus. As you are you cannot reach him, but there is a way. Thirteen keys, orbs known as the Wizard's Rainbow are the only means of passage to this place." and he spoke with hurry, his potency continuing to diminish. "You must go to where time still turns, away from this where, and find them."

The lot of them said nothing, only looked on, perhaps marveling at how the timeless figure was fading. Watching the death of a god, a progenitor of your universe. What was there to say? Especially now as the wall that made up his physical form was beginning to topple over.

"But be cautioned, once outside of this realm, Chaos will have its full hold on you. Even if its touch is not apparent, rest assured it is there."

Vanille swallowed, but the others were stock still.

"It will likely take all of you, and more to complete this task, however," and the barrier began to lean backwards, swaying under its own weight, "do not mistake that as a guarantee that you will all survive. Now be off, you're our only chance."

Then the wall tumbled down, dust flying upward as it spilled to pieces across the sand.

Pulse was no more, and his death sent a shiver through them.

Fang frowned, seeming to have forgotten all about the behemoth still looming just feet away. Which wasn't all that bad really, as the creature now stood upright, having appeared to have listened to the entirety of the now passed god's message. Listened and understood.

She sheathed her lance, fists coming to rest on her hips. "Now I've seen everythin'. Couldn't be bothered to tell us how to get there, could he?"

"Oh," the behemoth spoke, turning both the humes' heads. It even carried a curious setting to its beastly features. "We suppose...you are the ones he mentioned?"

For a moment the two women just looked at the monster. While stranger things had indeed happened, even just recently, this talking creature seemed to take the cake.

"Pulse appeared to us as a shade and told us to come here, to wait for someone." and when no response came to the inquiry, the behemoth's face stretched a little further, eventually with realization. "Excuse us."

The behemoth's shape smoothed over, lost definition as its exterior darkened and became more like a pitch mirror. The form fluxed and twisted, spun around as its dimensions morphed into something more familiar, more human. Then color and details resurface, looking nothing like the monster it had been. It was a person now, at least what vaguely resembled a person. Almost six feet in height, no discernible body type or features to distinguish gender as the entirety of its form was covered in clothing. Robes dyed in varying shades of faded lavender from head to toe, curled toes of black boots peeking out from beneath the seam. A shroud covered its head and face, save the eyes, an ogal and shumagg the same color as the rest of it with the exception of three thinned ovals of bright crimson. The one in the center was the largest, like gazing eyes. Its own eyes were set evenly with black irises that were split into the three slits settled beneath thin, ghostly eyebrows. What skin that was visible was gray.

The width of the shoulders were hidden beneath a plentiful collar of ermine that spilled over them, white speckled with tufts of brown. From beneath that hung a necklace, a string of four -what looked to be- fangs, and a crystal arranged squarely to divide them in twos. Otherwise there was little to tell of the being so far.

"So, are you?" now it spoke without the customary snarl, but with a softer tone, though it was doubled over. Both effeminate and masculine at one time.

It still took a moment for them to process what just happened. Sure, the Oerbans had seen things spontaneously change shape before, but not quite like that.

"Yeah," Fang said at last, a slight shake of her head as if saying an oh-so-silent _fuck it, I'll bite_. "Guess we are. Though I gotta ask, just what are you?"

Its eyes widened slightly, perhaps surprised by the question. "Hm. Odd. We don't know. What do you think we are?"

Fang and Vanille exchanged glances, Fang appearing amused by the character.

"Pulse had called us...Mimic."

"No way, those things died out centuries ago. They're just in stories now."

"But so have centuries. It would seem." came the mimic's response.

"True," Fang nodded, still looking entertained. "So what's your name?"

"Name?"

"Gotta name, don't ya? Can't just call ya Mimic."

"Oh, we see, yes," its eyes drifted away, perhaps in thought. "Evaz...yes, we like the sound of that. You may call us Evaz."

"Us?" came Vanille's audible curiosity.

"Yes. Us. For _we_ are."

"Fascinatin', really, but seein' as we're all buddy-buddy now, could ya let us have our sprite back?" and the huntress nodded, gestured beyond the mimic to where the moogle still struggled between the jaws of dog. The dog regarded the lot of them with a keen eye, as the other eye wandered, untrained and yellowed with aged injury. Its slavering lips flared to reveal teeth, two upturned tusks flanking the coal blank nose at the end of the threat-creased muzzle.

"It belongs to you?"

"Not really, he's just been followin' us around. Hate to see the little fella get eaten."

"Well...we could try. She was hungry when she came here. We don't suppose that has improved between then and now."

"How can it tell it's a she?" Vanille whispered to her partner, who only raised her shoulders at the question. Although she didn't notice how unusually human the animal appeared, mostly in the shoulders and legs and paws, but it also had breasts. You could make them out amongst the fur on its underside if you looked closely.

Evaz would approach the large canine with little hesitation in spite of the insistent growling and snarling the animal presented. It knelt down, quietly encouraging it to release the moogle, which it would after a minute or two. The imp sped away from the animal, wings a blur as it made a bee line for humes to hide behind, all the while the deep teeth marks in its body resolved with a succession of pops. Looked like the creature was relatively unharmed, albeit terrified. And the dog looked bereft, ears flattened and whimpering as the mimic stroked the ridge of up standing hair along its head and neck.

"Don't worry, chuckles," Fang laughed a little, "hopefully we'll get ya fed soon enough."

Evaz gave the hume a peculiar look. "What?"

"Back where we're from, dogs like that made a sort of laughin' noise. You remember, Vanille?"  
The redhead nodded.

"But that is not her name."

"Then what is it?"

Another strange expression, though now directed towards the ground. "We don't know, but it isn't chuckles."

"It'll have to do for now, though, won't it?

"We suppose. And what do we call you?"

"I'm Fang, and this is Vanille. And where she goes, I go."

"Hmm, interesting." the setting of its eyes changed again, fascinated. "Then, as it stands, where you go, _we_ must also go."

"Looks like it." Fang crossed her arms. "Too bad we don't know where we're goin'."

"But that time gate has to be around here somewhere." Vanille stepped into the conversation, the moogle seemingly suctioned to her back, its bauble near her ear. "I mean, why would he lie?"

"'Cause the late great high an' mighty knew he was bitin' it, so he thought to go out with the last laugh."

The worst part about that is it sounded like something the Fal'Cie would do. As callous as they were known to be, it wasn't much a stretch to consider such a cruel joke. And that was frightening, a notion that the sprite must have shared due to its worried cooing. Or that could have just as easily been due to the hyena still eyeballing it.

"Yet Pulse told the truth about you." Evaz nodded to the humes. "There must be some merit to his claims of the gate also."

"Maybe it's right," Vanille said tentatively after a quiet had settled in. "As much as you'd hate to hear it," she looked to Fang. "Maybe we just need to wait."

True to form the older Oerban didn't much like to hear that at all, and threw her hands up with a snarl of dismissal. Though in her mind she could find truth in what her partner said. Pockets of time were blinking in and out of existence, and Pulse had referred to the gate as being one of them. They just needed to sit tight and wait for it to blink back into being.

So they would wait, there on the shore, however long would be necessary.

Now, let us take a moment to consider the mimic. It didn't know much, as it could very well be considered to have been born yesterday. As it said before, it was, that was all. There were no memories of what it was before Chaos, or if it was to begin with. That being said, noting that it didn't have much going on in its head should come as no great surprise. It didn't know the concept of time, but was aware of its absence. Didn't know of Fal'Cie or the events that brought them tumbling from their lofty perches to such a dismal state as death, but understood death. The end of things.

It didn't know what humes were, but knew these new acquaintances were of that persuasion. It regarded them from where it sat atop a pile of stones, the tusked hyena at its feet, curiosity a somewhat familiar sensation hinting in the setting of its eyes. It could hear them talking to each other, talking about it. They were curious too, sharing their thoughts on what to think of it. It wasn't surprised or offended, didn't know how to be. Not yet.

Still, safe to say Evaz didn't know much at all.

But from the moment it _was_, when it became aware of itself, it began to learn. The behemoth it had become had been its first lesson. It found the beast felled just outside the city, covered in those silvery insects that were normally found fluttering through the air en mass. Bit by bit they devoured the monster, and for the longest while the mimic simply looked on, experiencing its first dose of curiosity. It had to wonder, albeit momentarily, what would make one creature eat another. It had no better solution than to see for itself, and partook of the remains. Just some blood that was stuck to its fingertips, just to taste.

Then it underwent its first transformation, becoming the behemoth, and also met with its first bout of confusion. Confusion that became fascination after a moment or two. It was shortly after returning to its original form that Pulse appeared and told it of the hyena and the humes it would eventually come upon. Thus, here we are.

But, to be clear, saying the mimic had an empty head is not saying it was dumb. Not by any means at all. It was quick as whip, much quicker than one would expect. And while it didn't know much, it knew when to pay attention. Which it would give undivided as it saw something appear over the bay, a bow of color and light stretching from the sky and into the sea. It had no way of knowing what it was, what it meant, but it was captivated.

"Oh my," it breathed quietly. It patted the hyena's head. "Look,"

The wild dog lifted its head, whimpering stilled for but a moment as its ears pricked and its features twisted into a form of discernible curiosity. She would stand in junction with the mimic and follow it to the shore. This is when the humes and the moogle took notice of the rainbow, naturally in a minor state of disbelief at what they saw.

"But there's no sun, no rain," Fang said to herself as she stood, brow knitted in suspicion.

"Maybe it isn't really a rainbow,"

"Eh?" she looked to her partner with a confused quirk to her face. "What else then?"

Before they could go into further discussion, something equally unheard of occurred, something that shouldn't have for all intents and purposes. A peel of thunder and a flash of light cut through the dismal sky directly overhead, gathering all eyes to it, like a streak of starlight from a comet's tail. It circled the entire island, shore to shore in a ring, and then came to slow near the lot of them. The light faded and a shape came into view, white and pure and beautiful.

An eagle unlike any they had ever laid eyes on, towering, piercing blue eyes surrounded by snowy down and pale roses. It folded its wings with a whisper of air in motion and then regarded them. There was a gilded chain about its neck, and laying against its broad chest a shield, small and bearing an insignia.

"Etro's seal," Vanille said quietly. "Isn't it?"

"Looks like it." Fang agreed with a single, curt nod. "But Etro's long gone."

"Not entirely, it appears." Evaz added, having crept quietly up to stand beside the humes. "Mayhaps this is our means to reach the...uh...whatever that is?"

The humes looked at him, momentarily curious, and then turned back to the bird.

"Guess someone up there is still lookin' after us." Fang sighed a little, trying not to get her hopes too high. "Best not keep 'em waitin'."

"Do we eat it?"

The look on the humes' faces were priceless when they realized the mimic's total sincerity in the question. Fang shook her head, and Vanille giggled a little.

"No, we ride it." at least that's what the girl was hoping.

"Oh. Very well." and if it knew what heartbreak was, it would equate such circumstances to be the cause. It looked down to the hyena at its hip and sighed, "Let's go then."

Thankfully their unanimous assumption was well placed. The eagle settled into a sort of nesting posture as they approached, wings folded and feet tucked beneath its snowy body. The hyena needed some assistance embarking, Evaz catching the dog under its shoulders as it jumped up. She draped herself across the bird's back between the mimic and the smallest hume, which must have been too close or the moogle's comfort as the sprite drew away for the redhead slightly. Though it would eventually settle in her lap.

Fang twisted around to look behind her, having taken the forward most spot, then resumed her seat. "Looks like everyone's comfy. So...giddyap?"

No movement, as if the massive eagle hadn't heard.

"Hiyo?"

Still nothing.

"Yip-yip?"

The bird shook its head, feathers ruffled and raised for all of a second, but gave no response otherwise.

"Why don't you just say please?" Vanille whispered over her partner's shoulder.

Fang's brow flattened over her eyes, unimpressed with her own inability to consider that to begin with. Though, in her defense, it wasn't exactly commonplace to say "please" to animals. She cleared her throat gently, leaned forward a bit and then said, "Please...take us to the rainbow."

To a modicum of her own surprise, the eagle began to move. It stood, bent forward to keeps its passengers from sliding off, and started down the beach, great wings unfurling to catch the air. Four hard flaps would get it off the ground, but the weight of its load would keep it low over the water for a while, until it could gain altitude. Once high enough for the humes and others to see the entirety of the city, it banked in the empty sky, now making its way for the fading bend of light. Faster and faster, the wind rushing in their ears with a shrill whistle they drew close to it, the world around them beginning to blur in the speed of their movement.

The eagle took them into the rainbow, they would not appear out the other side.

_(II)_

The chamber was dark with night, not even moonlight piercing the numerous stained glass windows lining the walls. It was empty and quiet, though not entirely, save for a chair near the tail of the great room, an occupied throne to be precise. And there was a dull hum in the air, electric current churning through wires and cables towards the throne. It was acting as a battery, life support for the withered form sitting in it.

A green cloak swaddled the flimsy, bony form, pallor and yellowed skin stretched over an old frame, pockmarks and scars all over it, liver spots. It didn't move, asleep in a way, its chest not rising and falling with air though it breathed. But not as you or I. The chair was making it breathe, pushing oxygen through its aged body, a filter sort of contraption on the piece cleaning the air that it was no longer able to process on its own.

Amidst all the quiet, however, something did move. It was a rush of air with coupled sound of flapping wings, hundreds of them, and they came swirl up and settle around the throne. It caused a reaction from the occupant. A green light began to glow, a deep and emerald color that bathed the floor in light and cast a shadow of the sitting figure. Something lingered behind the throne, just outside of the light, and leaned in close so as not to have to raise its voice.

"My lord," like dead leaves brushed over stone by an autumn wind.

There was a stirring in the throne, the chest moving, a rail thin arm that reached inward, working inside the folds of the cloak. Then the room rattled with the sound of winding, gears tightening.

_Shrrrick-shrrrick-shrrrick_

The glowing intensified as the figure drew its first breath on its own, its entire body lifting with life. A second key was wound up, three times as was the usual. The green glowing intensified again. Now the figure's cloaked head turned towards the voice, but not after a third key on its chest was twisted.

"They are here." there was no voice, only air moving through another filter, no vibration to give it volume. He didn't wind up that particular key. "See that they come to me directly."

"As you wish." hissed the other, and then the sound a of a hundred wings returned, deafening, and then gone as quickly as it began.

For a moment the chamber was silent again. But just a moment. The throned form would then muse aloud, "So they've come to see the wizard...the _wonderful_ wizard." and something resembling a laugh slithered out of it.

Author's Note: The beginnings are always the most difficult for me, so excuse the shoddy quality of this. Though now that I have most of the exhibition done, I should be able to move about with a little more grace. Again, this is no way related to the story presented by the upcoming Lightning Returns, and is based on my own interpretations of the events brought about by 13-2. Now with all that said, please enjoy. Suggestions and **constructive** comments are always welcome. Also, for those who are curious, ogal and shumagg are words, Arabic articles of clothing actually. I looked it up.


	4. Chapter 3

**Lords of Chaos**

**Chapter Three**

_ And somewhere..._any_where over the rainbow, nothing is what it seems._

The space between worlds. The ether, the in-between, down the rabbit hole, Todash. Whatever its name it is what it is. The passage from one where to another, all of them in there many millions connected by the same road. But there is no going back the way you came, no making a u-turn. Once you go, you go forward. Perhaps you end back where you started if that is your intent. Otherwise, just pray whatever gods dwell within the in-between have some mercy for you.

Darkness abounded here, alongside all the commotion and maelstroms that could ever be. Whistling winds and the roaring of gods knew what filled it to the brim. Somehow safe upon the eagle's back they held on tight against it, the riotous air neither hot nor cold, but abusive all the same. Constantly pushing against them, perhaps trying to throw them back to their rightful place, unwilling to settle for the disruption of its natural order.

Fang could feel Vanille tucked tight against her back, arms curled secure around her waist like her life depended on it. The moogle had taken refuge in the cramped space between the two humes, its bauble the only visible evidence of it as it shimmered and fluttered in the terrible winds. Evaz appeared to hardly notice the storm, its eyes thinned against the motion of wind, though it didn't shrink to it as the other did. And its cloak had moved -seeming of its own accord, to cover the hyena as it had no way of sheltering itself. The mimic took a moment to look into the darkness, to see what lingered out there. There was something, to be sure, creatures resided in the ether that I don't think I have the caliber to describe. Rest assured they're horrible, though it wouldn't catch a glimpse of anything. Not this time.

Then the storm gave way to stillness and a sea of stars, the air suddenly cool and damp. They had broken through to another where with the crack and boom of fireworks, in the middle of the night it would appear. A bloated moon hung above them at its halfway mark, pearly light bathing the ground beneath them. Looking down all they could see was a darkened desert, but there was more ahead, a growing horizon that was solid ground. The desert would continue to stretch around it, however, sequestering the mass from any other that could have been but miles away.

Now Vanille could straighten, loosen her grip around her partner's middle. She looked around, blinking to focus her vision. The moogle was still nestled in her lap.

"Where do you suppose we are?" she looked to Fang, finding her doing the same thing as she. Taking it all in.

"A long ways from home," the huntress had a look of dismay, her brow knitted and eyes thin. Even the smell of the air was unfamiliar, never mind the alien look of the place. Or it could've been that she had reminded herself that there was no longer a place for her to call home. All that was left for them was whatever lay ahead. "Still," she sighed, "don't look so bad from here."

"Neither does a chasm." the mimic said quietly. Perhaps it had a lingering suspicion, a quiet dread it didn't have a name for. It would stroke the hyena's neck in contemplation, searching the sensation over to try and find its meaning. All it was certain of was that something felt...peculiar, and the sensation was coming from simply looking to the layout of the horizon ahead of them. Though it wouldn't consider the notion long as Chuckles had begun whining, worried.

The dog was draped across the mimic's lap, looking down to the desert below. Seems heights didn't agree with her.

"Is she okay?" Vanille had twisted around her place, the light of the moon casting over her concerned features.

"We believe she wants to be back on the ground."

"I think she's about to get her wish."

All heads turned to Fang's cautionary adage, noticing that not only had the darkness on the horizon drawn much closer, but the eagle was beginning to ease lower to the ground. Now, typically this wouldn't be something to worry over since one was meant to descend if they intended to land, but it didn't feel so natural. Feathers were coming away from the birds wings, and the very form of it seemed to grow dim.

At this height, if they fell, there's no telling what would happen. Their journey could end as quickly as it had begun.

_Come on now, just a bit farther, please-please-please-_ the huntress was praying in her head, hands fisting in the plentiful down at the eagles neck as her body leaned back, pulling in hopes of pointing the eagle's beak up instead of down. But still it sank towards the horizon, towards the solid darkness, leaving a trail of feathers in its wake.

"Hang on everyone, we ain't slowin' down!" Fang shouted as she tensed up, eyes screwing shut, tucking her chin and affirming her grip on the eagle as Vanille tightened her grip once again around her waist.

_Gods help us_, she still prayed, regardless of whether or not there were any left to listen.

Just as the eagle came to cross onto solid ground, it would outright disappear. Just gone, poof, without a trace. And out party came tumbling down into the darkness of the land below, into a nest of tree branches and their own terrified screams.

However they would come away from the haphazard landing none the worse for wear.

The moogle chose to levitate as the eagle disappeared, slipping right out from under the tumbling hume that had once been its shelter, and carefully watched from above where the humes fell. The cracking of branches and thuds of bodies falling cut the still air, making the imp wince and whimper. It would be only after the commotion stopped that it would descend to salvage what it could of its comrades.

With its bauble to light the way it would come upon them one by one, thankfully intact. Vanille was tangled up the branches of a barren but sturdy tree, a few scrapes on her face and limbs, shaken no doubt from the fall, but otherwise unhurt.

"Opo-po?"

"I'm okay," she groaned. "Think I'm stuck though," and the redhead almost laughed, perhaps amused at the apparent worst of her predicament. Stuck on her back some seven to ten feet from the ground. Could've been worse.

"Opo." it was a sigh of relief, but then it gestured with its pudgy hands for her to hang tight. It wasn't strong enough to get her to the safety of solid ground, so it hoped she would wait long enough for it to gather the others to help. She must have understood, seeing as she didn't try to move too much as the sprite drifted away.

The moogle zipped and wove through the trees in search of those still unaccounted for, but found none. It would find sudden pause at what sounded like the lurching of mud, the sloshing of muck, and the spitting and cursing of the one forced to trudge through it.

"Fuckin' marsh!" it was Fang, covered in a thick layer of grime. "Dropped us in a fuckin' marsh!" and her carrying-on continued in such fashion, overwhelming the surrounding noises of crickets and toads hiding in the dark. "Might've swallowed somethin' crawlin'," and then she threw up. But was all right in any case.

The moogle would find Evaz and the hyena as well, the least jolted of the lot. Evaz stood upright, seemingly untroubled, and appeared to just look around. Its cloak was covered in mud as it had used to shield itself and the hyena from the worst of the fall, forming the living garment into a spherical shape that it would roll once its touched down. The mimic tested the marsh muck with its feet, amused in a way, and to no one's surprise it tried a taste of the stuff. Needless to say it didn't approve. And Chuckles had its nose in the mud, sniffing manically, hunting for something it couldn't see but could obviously smell. Poor thing was so hungry, the toad it would eventually pounce onto didn't stand a chance. Then two more amphibians would meet the same fate. The hyena's pleased laugh echoed through the trees.

The mimic would squint at the light of the imp's bauble. "Is everyone well?"

"Opo," the moogle nodded and cooed. "Opo-po," then it began gesturing again, encouraging the mimic to follow. Which it did after calling to Chuckles to do the same.

"She sounds unhappy," the mimic observed as it followed the sprite through the mire. It could here Fang still going on about "this fuckin' marsh", and it lead it to believe if such an emotion had words, those would be the ones. To which the moogle only nodded. Maybe it was trying not to laugh.

"Could I get a hand, please?" Came Vanille's pitiful plea from the branches.

"Hold on a tick, darlin', I'm comin'." Fang, now sounding to have resolved her hissy fit, fished her lance out of the mud and put it to rest against her back as usual before trudging over to help her partner. The moogle fluttered over to give the assistance of its light, and it wasn't long before Fang had Vanille in her arms as a loving groom would his bride and eased her to her feet. The mud bubbled and gurgled under her weight.

"Eww," she cringed, then looked up to her partner. "You're covered in it."

"Ain't it beautiful?" Fang chuckled, then looked around to the other faces nearby, green in the light of the imp's bauble. "So everyone's accounted for? Good. Now, I know it's never a good idea trudgin' through a place like this in the dark, but we can't just stick around waitin' for daylight. Gods know what's crawlin' about out here."

"We don't even know where we are." Vanille shook her head.

"Well, we know not t'go that way, seein' as there's nothin' but desert out there." Fang felt the need to state the obvious, tilting her head towards what she hoped was the south. "So I suppose north would be our best bet. Chances are we'll come up on someone or somethin' eventually, never mind which direction we take."

"Still, in the middle of the night? We can barely see a foot in front of us." the younger Oerban was right. With the trees blocking the moonlight, navigating this mess would be next to impossible. Never mind how they had no choice but to hoof it from here on out.

"Squishy's glowin', ain't it? We'll have to make due with what we got."

"The moogle's bauble," Evaz noted curiously, "is insufficient?"

"What other choice do we have?" The huntress looked at the mimic, unable to go give a better response.

"Hmm, perhaps we could," the mimic's thought trailed away, the words going quiet as it scrutinized the sprite closely. Closer than it had thus far, unblinking, completely focused. Then it began to change, its cloak shifting and churning much like it had in Valhalla. The mimic eventually shrank and hovered in the air as a blob, the crystal on its necklace situating itself at the top. Then _pop_, the sphere became a less than perfect copy of the imp. Lavender colored skin, a gray nose and pair of leathery wings, a puffy collar of ermine, and the blue bauble over its head.

And all the while the others watched, eyes wide like the moon above them.

"Will this do?" the mimic's voice was slightly squeaky, almost child like.

"Opo!" The original sprite shied, maybe not liking the familiar look of its doppelganger.

Though she had seen it before, Fang still found herself fascinated by the mimic's transformation, her eyes thinning at him as she prodded its now chubby belly to find it of the same rubbery sort as the other moogle's. "I'll be damned." she breathed. "So you can do anythin' Squishy can?"

"Not everything." the blue bauble swayed with the mimic's head. "If there is magic in the sprite, we don't have it. For that, we would have to...eat it."

"_Opo-po_!" the real moogle zipped to hide behind Vanille, making no room for an opportunity to be devoured.

"Not that we _would_," Evaz continued. "We _like_ it."

"Good to know," Fang gave a little laugh, nudging Vanille with a prod of her elbow to try and elicit a giggle out of her as well. Which failed. "I suppose then one of ya could stay down here and keep us from trippin' over somethin' we shouldn't, and the other could get above these trees and guide us out of this mess."

Before the decision could even be debated as to which would do what, the white moogle had disappeared through the branches with a whistle of air. All eyes rose to the sky, peering through the gnarled branches until they spotted the green flicker of the sprite's bauble. It hovered in place for but a moment, then zipped off towards the north.

"Guess that settles it." Fang sighed. "Best be on then, yeah?"

They would never guess how far the arms of these marshes would stretch so far and so wide ahead of them, or that it would be so troublesome to trudge through. It would take most of the night for them to reach the safety of solid ground again, emerging from the mires with mud up to their knees and exhausted simply from the distance they covered. All of the walking they did about Valhalla hadn't made them half this tired.

Above they found a sea of unfamiliar stars as the marshes gave way to tall grasses and the singing of crickets and toads. The ground was still so soft, wet, but it wasn't full of slime and swallowing mud holes as the greater reaches of the swamp had been. They could move with less worry here.

Evaz would change back to its preferred form just as the other moogle descended to settle on Vanille's shoulder. The hyena would weave about the mimic's legs, sniffing its hand and giving it a lick. Then all of them seemed to turn to look north, towards a high nest of hills that weren't too far off.

"What's that, ya think?" Fang looked to her partner.

"Don't know." she had to squint a little, to be certain she was seeing what was really there. A green light, something shimmering beyond the hills. "Maybe its a green sun."

"That'd be a hell of a sight, wouldn' it? Though I dunno if it'd surprise me. Gods know what this place is like."

Vanille then yawned, looking a little surprised after it resolved.

"Feelin' sleepy?"

"Yeah." she nodded, forcing down a second one that was trying to sneak up on her.

"Guess time still works here. Iffin' that's the case, maybe it's better we all find a place to bed for the night."

"Suppose...but let's go a little further on," Vanille dipped her chin with a third suppressed yawn. "The hills will be safer...less likely for anything to see us."

Fang smiled and pat her shoulder. "That's my girl. Come on,"

One could see the weariness in them now as they pressed forward again, the humes that is. Slower steps, backs slightly bent forward, conscious effort showing in a tightness around their eyes. Fang was beginning to yawn as well, showing plainly the symptoms of being tired and having no L'Cie powers to give you that last bit of get up and go. It was going to take some getting used, the huntress feeling as if her fatigue was an inconvenience. Doubly so as she saw the mimic and the hyena plodding along without any signs of tiring.

Though the distance was not very far, the night was beginning to wane as they reached the roots of the hills, the landscape washed gray as the moon began to disappear beneath the horizon. The velvet black of the sky had started to waver in preparation of dawn.

There were perhaps a dozen rounded rises of earth to greet them, covered in shorter and softer grasses turning to a moderate breeze sweeping by, and they allotted themselves in such a fashion that a large dip formed at the center of them like the nest of a giant bird. It was agreed upon to settle in this little hollow for a while, if for nothing else then just a few hours to sleep before going any further. Evaz appeared curious at the sound of it, sleeping that is, though not enough so to ask what it was.

"Go ahead and get comfy, I'm gonna take a quick peek over the next hill or two." Fang almost whispered to Vanille.

"I'll go with you,"

"Nah, I'll only be a minute. You keep this lot outta trouble until I get back, yeah?"

Worry came over Vanille's face, a sudden upward tilt to her eyebrows. "Don't go alone."

Fang shrugged a little, a slight quirk of endearment in her mouth. "All right. C'mon, squishy, walk with me. I'll just be a minute." She assured her, and kissed her on the forehead to be sure she got the message before easing up the nearest hill.

After she disappeared over the next crest, Vanille let out a heavy sigh, kneeling down into the grass. She never meant to worry so much, but she couldn't really help it. A stranger in an even stranger land as this, the last thing she wanted was to risk losing the only thing familiar. Was that wrong? Without Fang she would be alone, and the idea of that was terrifying. It made her think back to Pulse's now haunting words; _do not mistake it as a guarantee you will all survive._

A shiver went up her back and she hugged herself, knees pulling towards her chest as she sat in the grass. What if this journey was just a folly, and it would get them all in a grave anyway? Even if that was true, so what? What other choice was there?

Another heavy sigh and the worry settled a little deeper. And Fang's return would do little to soothe it, to quiet her perilous thoughts of what might become of them. Even as the older Oerban drew her in close, an arm around her and guiding her head onto her chest. Even then, when normally she would feel so safe, Vanille could only fret.

"You don't mind cuddlin' even though I'm all dirty?"

"Hm? Oh, no, I guess not,"

"Not a very convincin' answer. You okay?" fang lifted her head, trying to met Vanille's eyes but was unable. And once more she wouldn't get the answer she was expecting.

"Did you find anything out there?"

A single eyebrow lifted, unsurprised. "Yeah, little things. Paths in the grass...maybe smoke from campfires. Not too sure though, might look 'em over again come daylight."

"Hm." a contemplative response, though in Vanille's mind her thoughts were flying towards the worse case scenario. _Just wait, this land is full of savage brutes that'll kill us all in our sleep._

"What about that green light?"

"Couldn't see that far. Don't worry too much, darlin'. Just get some sleep."

_Don't worry she says. That's a laugh._

Still, in spite of all the quiet panic in her head, she would find sleep easily, lulled by Fang's heartbeat and steady breathing. The snoring she was more than used to by now. In fact it would've been much more difficult to sleep without it, as loud and obnoxious as it seemed. Now that she was briefly considering it, before sleep settled in entirely, Vanille thought chances were good that any nasty out there wishing to do them harm would likely get scared off by the noise.

Their sleep would be sound for the better part of four hours, just long enough for the sun to come over the tops of the hills they had settled within. But it wasn't the sun -which they discovered wasn't green at all- that woke them.

Evaz would notice the disturbance first, seeing as it hadn't slept. It hadn't felt the need to, and was actually quite curious as the humes and the moogle dozed off and began their peculiar noises of snoring and mumbling. The imp would twitch from time to time.

As for the hyena, it wandered off shortly after the others fell asleep, and was gone for perhaps an hour. The mimic assumed the animal was still hungry, and thus found no worry in her absence. And there would be no cause for alarm upon her return as she stalked back into the hollow and curled up in the grass beside the mimic, appearing to sleep as well for the next short while until the sun began to rise over the hills. Then it started stirring, like in a dream with legs kicking as if in hot pursuit. Then grunting and panting, rolling back and forth. Then it rolled onto its feet, digging at the ground and whining. Sounding nervous almost. It was beginning to make its laughing sound, though the pitch and sustain was different. It was a troubled noise. And Evaz watched, curious and with a mild quirk of panic to its eyes. What was going on? Was something wrong with her? Had she eaten something she shouldn't have?

What woke the humes was the loud, piercing yelp that ripped its way out of the animal just as one of its arms looked to rip itself from the socket, the limb yanked downward by some unseen force. The poor thing began twisting on itself, contorting with a violent metamorphosis as the others watched and listened to the horrid crunching of what could be nothing other than bones coming undone. The long bones in the forepaws stretched outward, skin splitting open. The flesh sealed in seconds to form almost human fingers, claws clutching. The hind legs went through a similar change, collapsing into limbs more befitting of something bipedal. A gut wrenching groan tore its way out of the hyena when the ribs separated and tucked inward, forcibly narrowing the span of the wide shoulders and neck. And the neck was pulled down, shortened. The worst of it was when the muzzle snapped at the bridge, the jaw unhinging as it was drawn back. The sound was sickening.

All the while the pelt was receding. It didn't exactly fall out, she wasn't shedding, it simply un_grew_, taking much of the coloration with it and leaving behind a mildly reddened skin tone. Though in some places, down the spine and across the shoulders the spots and tan hue remained. Also did the tail stay in its place, tucking along the curve of the now bare backside in the lingering pain of the transformation. And atop the thighs and from the elbows down the pelt remained, striped dark brown and with clawed digits and roughened black pads on the palms and soles of her feet. Then there were the tusks. They didn't change, still curling upward from their squashed residence between the eye teeth and the incisors in the top jaw.

Poor thing slumped over in the grass, still save for the heaving of her working lungs.

The others were still as well, mostly out of shock, wide eyed and wordless. Vanille had her hands over her mouth, jaw slack behind her palms. Once she could focus beyond her own pounding heart, her own panic, her first instinct was to move. Her heart was reaching out, wanting to help, but Fang would bar her way with an outstretched arm.

"No," she cautioned quietly. "Wait." There was no telling what they were dealing with. If this went bad, Fang preferred to take the brunt of it.

Evaz watched the huntress draw her lance with care, her advancing steps just as calculated. A thinning settled in the mimic's eyes, unable to see the need for such caution. "Is she dangerous?"

"We're about to find out." Perhaps if the Fal'Cie weren't so well known for their tricks, Fang wouldn't have been so suspicious. But it would've been just like those deified bastards to send them on a fool's errand with some rabid wolf in human skin. Or hyena, as the case may be. To be honest the huntress had found the latter to be the worse of the two. Cunning and sneaky gigglers.

Though that suspicion would flounder the closer she came. Fang knelt down and pushed on the girl's shoulder, rolling her over.

"Gods," she breathed, a whisper. "Just a kid." _Young'in ain't even as old as Vanille._

The size and build gave way to the girl's age, which appeared perhaps fourteen, give or take a season. She wasn't as big as the animal she was, but seemed just as strong, corded muscle raised in gentle relief under the skin. The scars the hyena had on its face had carried over to her as well, the left eye tarnished, and her ears were pricked though no longer furry and brown. Some of the tan fur still lined her jaw, dark stripes hidden in it. The same for the just shy of the shoulder length hair. Tan with dark brown roots.

"Opo?"

Fang looked up to see the sprite hovering over her shoulder, the mimic and Vanille not too far behind.

"Is she..."

"She's breathin'," Fang responded to her curious partner, scratching the back of her head. "Ya ever heard of anythin' like this?"

"The elders would talk about them, remember?"

"Skinwalkers...changelings? You think so? But those are just stories,"

"So were we." Evaz interjected. Though the mimic wasn't looking at the humes, all of its attention was garnered on what they had deemed another figment. Another tall tale. "Chaos touched everyone...everything, didn't it?"

True. Too true, and Fang swallowed as she remember. Chaos touched them all, just like it touched this poor kid. What on earth had it done to herself and Vanille? When would they see its mark on them?

"Well, stories or not, we've got places to go and things to do. Come on, chuckles," Fang propped her lance against her shoulder and started tapping the girl's cheek with the back of her other hand. "Up and at 'em."

At first there was no response, no reaction. Though, given half a minute, the kid would start to stir. Clawed hands raised to shield tender and blinking eyes from the sunlight, the damaged eye remaining mostly closed, though Fang caught glimpses of the yellowing and the whitened iris. The other was dark brown, almost black.

She groaned and turned her face away. "_O'ah be'lan eh tah?_"

Fang's brows shot upward, surprise clear on her stretched features. Vanille made a similar expression, as she had heard bits and pieces of the question, and understood. It was their mother language, the language of Pulse. Roughly translated as "where am I?"

"Somewhere over the rainbow, kid, remember?"

"_Tai_," She responded with a sluggish nod. Then she rolled onto her side, movements heavy as she muttered on about what a terrible dream she had woken from. Then eventually dwelled into the realization that this place was nothing like home. The air didn't even smell the same.

Then she rubbed at her injured eye with the back of her hand, finally realizing it wasn't just the land around her that had change. She looked her clawed and furred hands, mortified. "_Tah teh ae O'ae_..._tah teh ae O'ae_!" This is not me, this is not me.

"_O'ae teh'han_!" I am cursed.

Knees in the grass she touched her face, shuddering, and then clawed at her scalp, chest heaving with frantic breathing. On the brink of sobbing. What a terrible shock it must have been.

"Whoa, chuckles, simmer down now," Fang put her lance fully on the ground, inching a little closer. "Take it easy. Don't wanna hurt yourself," but when she laid a hand on the changeling she flinched, swatting her hand away.

"Let us." Evaz intervened.

With a gesture of surrender Fang stood, picking up her lance and sheathing it again as she took a step back, watching, listening.

"Is she all right?" Vanille asked, cautiously quiet.

"Would you be if you woke up lookin' like that?"

"What did she say?"

"Somethin' about all this bein' a dream or somethin'. Sounds like she was sleepin' when Chaos touched her."

Vanille felt her face knit with sympathy. "And she's from Pulse?"

"Sounds like it," quite literally. "But I don't think she's from our time. Maybe earlier."

Vanille nodded, though still curious. Though her curiosity was equally divided between when the changeling could've come from and how easily Evaz seemed to converse with her. As if it understood.

"Do you think she'll still come with us?"

"Don't see why she wouldn't." Fang crossed her arms. "Doubt it would do her much good stayin' here."

The humes would only have to stand by but a moment more, as the mimic made some progress somehow. They would spy the lines of a smile -it actually looked rather awkward on what little of its face they could see, it might have been its first one- in its eyes as it pulled its cloak from its shoulders and tucked it around the girl, both of them eventually standing.

"We can continue." the mimic announced casually. "Also, she would appreciate it if you did not call her 'chuckles'."

"How do you understand, Evaz?" Vanille asked.

"We do not only hear, but we feel what she says. We understand." the mimic responded plainly.

Fang laughed a little. "Kid gotta name then?"

"And do not call her kid. She is rather adamant about that." it continued. "She is Saba of the clan of Lor of Kes'shi."

"A Kes'shian? Funny, she don't _look_ Kes'shian."

"Fang, that's not funny," Vanille nipped.

And Saba appeared to agree, scowling severely at the huntress.

"Opo," the moogle concurred with a slight growl to its usual squeak.

"All right, all right...still, can she travel?"

"Yes." the mimic nodded.

"Good, 'cause we got ground to cover. We need to see what's beyond these hills, if there's anyone out there that can tell us where we are. C'mon."

Now that the sun was up, our group would find a much better view beyond the rises of the hills, albeit a curious one. Not so much in that there were more marshes ahead, but that everything had the strangest sort of...redness to it. What few leafing trees there were dotting the landscape were speckled with red in the bark and the leaves and blossoms that shivered as the air moved through them. The mud that had since dried on the clothes and feet was a bright red, like fired bricks, and even the grass was peculiarly...rusty looking. The mimic would find the oddities amusing, shifting to and from this and that out of sheer curiosity. It had almost everybody laughing when it said "we've never been a tree before." Though it didn't quite understand why that was funny.

Fang hadn't been too far from the mark in her observation the night before. There had been trails walked into the tall grasses and marsh reeds beyond the hills, and there had been fires, the smoke rising high into the darkened sky. Though there were no fires now, it was easy enough to see where they were likely burning. There was a small village out here in the bog, a dozen or more houses set up on stilts. Red-wooded houses inhabited by sturdy-looking, red skinned people that all seemed to look up at them in unison as they stepped onto the beaten mud walkways of their tiny town. They, quite factually, dropped whatever it was they were busying themselves with to have a look. Our group would come to a easy halt when the locals started drawing closer to them.

"You think they noticed us?" Fang said quietly over her shoulder.

Vanille responded with a flattened expression, as if her partner had just made a bad joke. Then with a slight roll of her eyes she smirked, "Not a chance."

And then the lot of them were bombarded with questions.

Where did you come from?

Where are you headed?

What are you wearing?

Are those weapons?

What is your imp saying?

Did the wizard send you?

What were you doing in the marshes at _night_?!

And they came at such a frequency, with such excitement, there was no room to even think of an answer, or which question to answer first.

Someone came pressing through the crowd, shouting, "Please, fellow Quadlings, please! Do not harass our visitors! Stand aside,"

Eventually the fellow would emerge from the throng of bodies, his silver, bristled hair -that on his head _and_ his face- seeming to go every direction.

"Please, excuse my neighbors. We don't often see people come through here."

"No harm done." Fang replied.

"Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Ovvels, my name is James." and her reached out his strong, thick hands to shake with each of them. Saba quietly declined. "What brings you here?"

"Not entirely sure. Don't know where _here_ is. We're not locals ya see."

"I do." a small chuckle made his belly jiggle. "Come then, you will be a guest in my house. Perhaps I can help you."

"Much obliged." Fang seemed surprised at such generosity.

"Fang," Vanille put her hand to her partner's shoulder, almost whispering, "something feels off."

"Eh? What's wrong?"

"Just got a bad feeling. Like someone's watching us."

"Well we got a horde of people starin' holes in us just standin' here. You're not seein' any spooks again, are ya?"

"No."

"Then relax. If anythin' happens, I'm sure we can handle it."

And while that did little to soothe her ill-at-ease, there was even less for her to do to argue it. So she went along, all of them falling in line behind Fang to follow the giving Quadling to his stilt house just a short ways through the village. Inside they would find James' wife Heather, who was just as welcoming as her husband, begging that they have a seat and make themselves at home. Most of them sat at the rickety table, while Evaz seemed content to wander about and touch things. Just curious it seemed. Heather put on a kettle to make tea, and while they waited, James regaled them.

"You're in the northern reaches of Quadling Country, southern border of the indivisible land of Oz. So where are you from?"

"Far from here."

"Burzee? Or Ev perhaps?"

"Further." Fang laughed.

"Oh my." his bushy brows reached for his hairline. "So what brings you all the way here?"

"Were lookin' for somethin' called the Wizard's Rainbow. Know anythin' about it?"

"Simple folks like us don't know much about anything. Do we dear?" he chuckled.

"No, husband."

"But we know someone who might."

"Where could we find this certain someone?"

"In the Emerald City to the north. The great Wizard of Oz knows a great may of things. Surely he could help you. All you need to do is follow the yellow brick road."

"We didn't see any roads," Vanille said quietly, not expecting a response but getting one all the same.

"The road doesn't start until you get to Qhoyre, which is about two days northeast of here as the crow flies. There's a wagon road out of here that will lead you to Bengda, and then on to Qhoyre. Though I'll warn you, it's rather dangerous at night."

"Suppose if we can manage a swamp after dark a country road shouldn't be so bad."

"Well, the road takes you 'round near the kells, and nasties tend to come down from there at night to forage. Just a word to the wise."

"Thank ya kindly." Fang nodded. "Speakin' of which, any other avoidables we might need t'know about?"

And while the Quadling carried on and on about the pitfalls of his part of Oz, Saba listened, looked about, and sniffed without meaning to.

Something was odd. While she wasn't entirely acquainted with her heightened sense of smell, she could decipher that much. Things weren't adding up, things in the air that she could smell but not see. And things she could see that simply didn't make sense. But she wouldn't say a word about it for multiple reasons. One which being that she found no need to speak up about something she couldn't explain. She would much rather remain silent and be_ thought_ a fool than to speak and remove all doubt. In any case, she would have to agree with the red head, having heard her worry before. Something felt wrong.

Something...like the crow feathers dotting the floor. Yet there wasn't a sigh of one anywhere. Even outside there hadn't been a trace of them. Peculiar.

Evaz didn't appear to notice the feathers either as it shuffled about the house shifting into random objects and items while Heather watched, marveling. Though she almost lost it when the mimic copied her. James just laughed.

As hospitable as the Quadlings were, their visit with the foreigners was short lived. They had a long way to go and didn't wish to be kept for very long, which was understandable. They would send the strangers on with a few provisions, what little they could spare, some clothes for the changeling and a wish for safe travel. From their doorway they would watch the group leave down the wagon trail until they disappeared.

Then they would fall down dead on their own doorstep. Like someone blew out a candle.

Every Quadling in Ovvels would do the same, the young and old one by one expiring, dropping wherever it was they stood. The little village went silent after a few short moments. Though the silence didn't remain, neither did the air of abandonment that had settled in.

The corpses would shift and seethe, and soon crows could be seen to steadily number in the dozens. Then hundreds. They came out of the bodies screeching, emerging from long slits in the skin up the back or across the belly. They had stuffed the Quadlings full, living crows that drew by the murder into the sky. A great black cloud soon hung over Ovvels, and in its shadow appeared the only being now resembling life. A tall, lanky thing that looked like flesh stretched over a wooden frame. Every crow down to the last would disappear into this...thing, stuffed into its burlap sack gut as it stood in the center of the village with arms out, like a scarecrow in a barren field.

When everything was quiet again, one piercing green eye rolled in the soft socket of this creature, a being called the Watcher. It smiled, stitched lips stretching.

"They're off to see the wizard." It laughed quietly, rasping, and then would disappear in a flurry of black feathers.

Author's Note: I've lost so much steam for this project, but I think I can still pull it off. I really want to write this, been wanting to for a while, but now that I have all the heroes introduced -to a degree- it should be a bit easier for me. Now all I've got to worry about it plot for the most part. It's moving a bit fast, I suppose, but the voice of this fic is so different from my more recent pieces. Also, I know I said this was a Fanille fic, and it is, just waiting for the prime time for the fluff. Obviously this fic will focus more on the grand scheme of things than the personal issues. At least for now. Hope you're enjoying what little you've read so far, please feel free to ask any questions or make suggestions, and you'll find art for this fic on my DA.


	5. Chapter 4

**Lords of Chaos**

**Chapter Four**

_A funny thing I've found...not all that glitters is emeralds._

Just as the Quadling said, two days as the crow flies would bring our party to Bengda. They wouldn't spend much time there as the sun was still up, merely stopping long enough to check the accuracy of their course with the locals before moving on. Qhoyre wasn't too far off come nightfall, and the namesake masonry of the Yellow Brick Road could be spotted on the other side of sizable town in the dwindling light of evening. Though, as close as they came to it, they were forced to pause, to wait until after the sun fully set and Saba went through the change again. By the look on her face as the pain set in, you would think she didn't expect it to happen. Though it had without fail the last few days. She was just as surprised now as she was then when she suddenly couldn't stand to wear the clothes the Quadlings gave to her and the fur started sprouting.

The humes would look away as her body started writhing, twisting on itself. Though the mimic looked on, perhaps experiencing its first dose of sympathy. You could see it in the setting of its eyes. Or maybe it was some sort of morbid curiosity? Was the mimic a sadist and just didn't realize it?

Once the change was complete, the hyena seeming undisturbed and ready to move along, Evaz tucked the girl's clothes into its cloak.

"What ya got under there anyway, Evaz?" Fang couldn't resist to ask.

"Oh, you know," it contemplated with a slight bounce of its shoulders, "whatever."

"Whatever?" one dusky brow rose.

"Well, what should we have?"

"You're sayin' ya just float along? C'mon, I've seen ya got feet."

"Oh yes. Is that proper? Should we have something else?"

Fang shook her head, smiling, and Vanille giggled behind her hand. Then the two humes turned in unison to continue down the road.

"Feet will do for now," Fang said with a wave of her hand.

Evaz cocked its head to the side, puzzled, and then looked down at the hyena. "What do you suppose is so funny?"

The dog tossed only its head with a snort and a low growl, plodding along without an answer. And the mimic would leave it at that as well.

There was a modest inn at Qhoyre that would put them up for the night in spite of them not having any money. A wild wind was sweeping through and the innkeeper hadn't the heart to leave them outside. There was a room to spare anyhow.

"Can't remember the last time I slept in a bed," Fang shrugged as she put her lance against the wall after stepping through the door, into the gentle light of an oil lamp. "Don't know if I could."

"_I_ could." Vanille said, eagerly stepping out of her boots. "I love sleeping on the ground as much as you do, but beds are too nice to pass up." then she set her staff against the wall as well.

"Op-_po_." the sprite appeared in agreement as it followed Vanille to the bed, diving beneath the pillow until all that could be seen was the shimmering bauble.

"Eh, to each his own I suppose. Better take those beads off then."

Evaz found a chair by the window, sitting in it with an air of experimentation. Not that it had never sat before, but never in a cushioned chair like this. It was a bit amusing to watch the mimic bounce a time or two in it. And the hyena curled up beside the door, chuffing.

"You'll keep watch, eh chuckles?"

And the dog growled, showing her teeth. To which the huntress only chuckled before blowing out the oil lamp. The room was quiet now, save for Fang's careful steps around the bed and the rattling of the panes of glass due to the winds outside. With silent grace she eased to the far side of the bed, unwinding her sari and folding it neatly as she had hundreds of times before. Sinking onto the edge of the mattress she then proceeded to remove her boots and settle in.

Vanille was already so tired, almost fast asleep in the mere minutes after the lights went out. She hardly noticed Fang sliding into the bed behind her, beneath the covers with nary a sound or a shift in the mattress. There was a surge of warmth as arms twined around her form, cinching tight and secure, pulling to line up her back with Fang's front. The older Oerban released a comfortable sigh, nuzzling her cheek into the plentiful red tresses.

"Been waitin' to do this all day." she whispered.

"I can tell." Vanille responded sleepily.

"Can ya blame me?" she smirked, lips pulling in an almost feline fashion. "How long were we sleepin', ya think?"

Vanille felt a shiver ripple through her as Fang hands started moving, steadily upward, fingers and palms conforming the the swell of her breasts.

"Fang, not here," it was a quiet protest.

"But it's been so long...dreamin' ain't always enough for me." there was an audible tightness in her jaw, her words coming through closed teeth. Her grip tightened as well.

"Please," she groaned with a little more insistence, tucking the blanket a little higher. As badly as she wanted to submit, as much as she wanted this just like Fang did, she had to resist.

"Fine," a grumble, a low sort of growl laced with frustration, "but the moment I got ya to myself," and kissed Vanille's shoulder, tucking against it as she settled in a little closer. "I love ya, darlin'."

"You too," Vanille released a quiet sigh of relief, relaxing, finding herself drifting back towards temporarily elusive sleep. Though she wouldn't close her eyes before catching a glimpse of two pinpoints of light by the door at the level of the floor. The eyes of the hyena seeming to stare right through her.

Come the morning Saba and Evaz would be gone, though the humes and the sprite would find them waiting outside, the changeling once again on two feet and looking to have the biggest chip on her shoulder causing the tightness in her face.

From there they would continue on their way, finally beginning on the Yellow Brick Road towards the north. According to some of the Quadlings in Qhoyre, it would take a week or more to reach the Emerald City on foot. There were no other means of travel available to them, so on they hoofed it without delay. The paved path would take them through the outer reached of the kells and to the Quadling border where it met with the boundaries of the free state of Munchkinland on its eastern most territory, the grass going from red to a subtle blue. Their time in that place was about as short as the few Munchkins they caught sight of. They offered no welcome or assistance, they simply ignored the odd-looking passersby and went about whatever business they were busied with.

Perhaps half way along the road they stopped at a river running under the path, just long enough to rest up and have a drink. From the banks they could easily see they still had a ways to go, though the green glow had gotten stronger since the sun came up that day. Though, there was a bit of apprehension, and all of them -save the mimic perhaps- could feel it. Even from here they could see a great swath of forest reaching across the road, and it looked _dark_ between the trees. Like light had never touched beneath their branches. Woods so deep you can't help but wonder what's inside. So deep you'd much rather go around. But that was something they simply couldn't do.

"I don't like the feel of it." Vanille fretted quietly from her half step behind her partner.

"An' I don't like the look," Fang had a slight smirk.

"Opo," the moogle seemed to agree, cooing warily.

"No, I'm serious." she pressed gently. "Feels like Valhalla,"

"You sure?" Fang looked back, gaze critical.

"I mean, it isn't as strong, but yes."

"Stick close then, ya hear me?"

Saba and Evaz weren't so far behind, and while they didn't hear the humes' exchange, they regarded the forest ahead with a particular scrutiny as well. The mimic was likely most curious of what it would find inside to change into, mayhaps eat as well. It was feeling what it identified as peckish. Saba licked her chops almost habitually, also hungry. Though her tongue tucked directly back between her teeth as they crossed into the shade, into the darkened veil of the woods. She was sensing something, possibly the same thing as Vanille.

Mere pinpoints of light dotted the road through the thick branches overhead, making it just visible enough to follow between the towering pines. And it was terribly quiet, the air wet and heavy and still with the silence. No birds, no rustling of a stray breeze in the upper branches. Nothing. Just their footsteps. However the forest was far from empty, and the further they pressed, the deeper into the sylvan embrace they drew, the stronger that odd feeling grew. Swelling into something familiar. Something more akin to fear, even dread.

"Did you hear that?"

Everyone paused at Evaz's gentle yet sudden inquiry, turning to look at it.

"What was it?"

"We don't know...just a noise...like a..." then the mimic shrugged, looking at the huntress as if the sound was meant to describe what it heard.

Fang felt herself tense. "Maybe we should pick up the pace. If somethin's out there, I'd rather it be behind us."

Saba sniffed the air, pricked ears twitching, searching for sound. Her brows thickened over her eyes as she growled something low and in Pulsian. She had heard and was wary of whatever made the noise. It wasn't far, and it reeked of something that made the small hairs on her neck bristle.

Thankfully, for our travelers, the road stretched through only a small portion of the Pine Barrens, what was unfortunate was that it didn't make much of a difference. It was but a small collection of steps on before the next noise came out of the woods, something by far more decisive than a shrug.

_Fwump._

It had everyone stock still.

_Fwump-FWOP._

The lot of them turned. Fang twisted her lance from its holster and held it sure in both hands. The moogle tucked behind Vanille's shoulder.

_FWUMP-FWUMP._

There was the crack-bang of trees snapping at the trunks, two of the great pines tumbling over but a yard or so from the road. Then out it came, a teeming mass tumbling out of the dark and spilling across the golden bricks. It had no definite shape, a massive tumor sort of thing with nubs faintly resembling four limbs. What looked to be a head bobbed in and out of the black and tar-like mass, gnashing teeth they only thing certain about it. No flesh, no bones, just teeth and an outline of a hulking beast. It oozed and melted over the ground, smoke coupled with the hissing of corrosion heralding its steps as bricks were reduced to pocked bits of common stone beneath it. Then the jaw -what they could assume was a jaw- opened wide, wider than nature should've allowed it to. And out came this horrible, gargling noise.

"_OPO_!" the sprite screamed, darting down the road without a single look back.

"I'm with squishy, normally I'd stay and settle this, but," Fang checked the road again, saw it still scorched.

"You'll get no argument from me," Vanille turned white, frantically shaking her head. She checked over her shoulder. "Looks like the edge of the wood isn't much further."

"C'mon then," Fang snatched her partner's wrist and pulled her along at a healthy clip. "Evaz, let's go!"

"What? Why? What is this?" the mimic looked over its shoulder and then back to the monster. "Maybe we should eat it," it mused quietly to itself, even as it watched the creature lurch forward with a loud _splat_, scorching more of the yellow bricks. And while it contemplated as it did, Saba had the mimic by the tail of its cloak and pulled with everything she had, urging it to move. Spewing in Pulsian "_Don't be a fool, you'll get yourself killed_," and the like. Still, Evaz was consumed by curiosity, that is, until some of the black tar splashed against its foot and ate through its boot. Its eyes flew wide open.

"_Ouch_." it gasped, though oddly enough it didn't move. "That...that _hurts_,"

"_Gul-fah_, Evaz!" Saba insisted still. Let's go, basically speaking. "_Gul-fah_!"

"No, no, you go on. We will catch up."

Saba would have refused, given the opportunity. But the cloak came to life, ripping itself from her clawed hands and shoving her away. That was when she realized there would be no swaying the mimic, and she took off down the yellow road with a grunting oath.

Fang and Vanille would see the changeling emerge from the forest alone, worry creasing their features. Though the concern didn't last. Before they could even ask what had become of the mimic, Evaz too came into the light. It appeared in no apparent hurry, no rush of retreat and no trouble of harm bestowed on it by the monster. The worst of it showed in a sticky black streak going down the mimic's front. If they bothered to look a little closer, the humes would've seen noticeable relief in Saba's typical scowl.

"The hell happened to you?" Fang finally saw fit to sheath her weapon, and then crossed her arms and cocked her hips to one side.

"We...should not have eaten that." the mimic gurgled a little, burped, sounding sick. "But we have...discovered what it was."

"And?"

"Chaos." it sounded curious, though still squeamish. "It had been something else, but...Chaos consumed it."

"How do you know?" Vanille asked, once again paling to the sound of that unraveling force.

"We are of it too, we think. We came out of Chaos, so we know it."

The humes exchanged uneasy glances, likely thinking the same thing.

_ Is that going to happen to us too?_

"Still, whatever it used to be...it isn't anymore." Then, standing completely still without a shift in its typically vacant expression, it threw up, a fresh sheen of black spilling out from beneath the ermine collar.

Fang almost laughed. "You gonna be okay?"

"In time." though now that it thought, it wasn't too sure. This was an entirely new feeling, wanting to hurl your guts up. If it even had any, that is. Which it hoped it didn't.

"Can ya still walk?"

"Yes." another uneasy answer. It didn't want to, it wanted to lie down, but knew they still had so far to go yet.

"Let's get on then. Wasted enough daylight already."

Evaz would stumble a little as they started again, but Saba was there to help, though scolded him in little more than a whisper as they continued down the road that only seemed to wind on and on. A road which the mimic would continue to leave black splotches across for most of the way.

Another day would see them to their destination. Or, more accurately, the passage to their destination. The Emerald City, located at the very center of the Oz was observed as a sort of city state and guarded its borders with a wall on all sides, each cardinal direction marked with a guarded gate. Before they would be allowed beyond this point, the armed guards -both stout looking fellows at nearly eight feet tall with equally stout looking halberds- inquired as to their purpose. A simple question with a simple answer.

To see the wizard.

An answer they must have heard regularly as there were no questions to follow, they simply stepped aside almost mechanically, and opened the gate to allow them passage. On the other side the Yellow Brick Road continued, though now it wound through plentiful green grasslands.

And now they could see it, over the low hills. Finally.

The Emerald City, the seat of the seemingly so high and mighty Wizard of Oz, earning its name honestly as the late afternoon sun caught the innumerable semiprecious stones, making the city appear to glow. Steeples, arches and rooftops reached skyward in praise of its own grandeur, over the solid emerald and gold barrier surrounding them.

And small dark shapes, like birds, fluttered about the steeples, landing and taking flight, diving and ascending. In somewhat alarming numbers. However that isn't entirely important right now. I'll get to it though.

Our now weary travelers would not have to wait for a admission into the city, the gates opening freely as they drew near enough. Even before stepping through the archway, before they could even see the gilded O-Z emblazoned on the gate, they could hear the hustle and bustle of hundreds if not thousands of people. Nary a difference could be found in what lay within the walls as what lay without, in that it was all green. Waistcoats and bonnets, cobblestones, stained glass, bricks and mortar, all of it from the alleys to the belfries paid homage to the city's namesake.

Except for one article, one in the entire Emerald City. A wooden marquee not too far from the front gate, or any gate leading in and out of the place, with numerous sheets of parchment paper nailed to its front and back. Across the top of it, painted an almost offensive shade of bright red, a single word.

_**Wicked.**_

And on each sheet of parchment paper was an illustration of a person's or animals' face, or general silhouette thereof coupled with demands of "dead or alive" scrawled beneath the rendering and the name of the offending party.

"Look like wanted posters." Vanille said to herself though aloud, looking the papers over as they fluttered gently in the air caused by the passing of bodies in a hurry.

"Guess every town's got its rats." Fang nudged her partner with an elbow. Then she squinted at one. "In fact...that actually looks like one. Must've been a real honker t'get on a hit list like this."

Though all of them would find themselves dwelling on the largest poster, the one looking to have been there the longest with frayed edges and dogeared corners depicting a figure with no definite traits other than a sharp chin, a hooked nose, and wide brimmed and steepled hat. All in black ink. And under the depiction was the title "Wicked Witch of the West" along with the single demand of "Melted".

"Hmph," Fang crossed her arms, looking a bit fascinated. "Bet that broad wishes she was the rat."

"Pardon,"

All of them snapped around in unison, like they were set on the same switch. Among the sea of moving people a woman of average height and stature stood still, facing them with one arm across her chest. Her uniform was very well pressed and streamline, green of course, with all sorts of shinny bric a brac medals and badges adorning the front of it.

"The great and powerful Oz is expecting you at the palace, and requested I come and collect you."  
"And who are you?" one of Fang's sooty brows arched.

"General Jinjur of the great Oz's army, and I am to be your escort." she dipped her chin and leveled it again, a curt jerk of motion looking to have been more than sufficiently rehearsed. "Please, if you would follow me."

"Hold a tick, what makes ya think we're the ones his high 'n mighty fancypants is lookin' for?"

A brief pause, a slight surprise to her expression. She had never heard the wizard regarded in such a fashion. "The wizard was, and always is, very specific. He told me you seek the bends of the Wizard's Rainbow and is willing to help you find them. Now, if you please, the city can get...rough after dark."

"Well, when ya put it that way." What room was there to argue? It wasn't like they could refuse, not with any good sense or conscience. Sure, Fang's instincts were wary, convinced something was wrong, but she'd been feeling that particular prickle since they arrived in this place, this _where_. And Vanille hadn't mentioned any odd feelings since leaving the Pine Barrens. Could just be paranoia.

Then again...

In any case, what the general said appeared to ring true for everyone. The further into the city they went the throngs grew steadily smaller, as did the light of evening begin to fade. Doors and shutters were pulled closed, the clatter of latches closing ringing through the streets in a regimented pattern. The streets would be bare and silent in no time, and the commotion of life would be replaced by the shadows and whispers and wings, creatures in flight. Looking up our party saw the birds, or at least what they initially thought were birds. Rest assured, some of them were just common crows, migrating from the cornfields in the east, but the other shapes looked much too small or too large to be crows. They moved differently, weren't shaped the same. Coming upon the courtyard of the palace the truth of them would be revealed.

Monkeys. Flying monkeys. Some small, brown mostly with round faces and round, green eyes and white mustaches to match their tiny wings. They tittered and chirped about the steps leading to the palace doors, along the fences and archways, fascinated by new visitors. The others were giants in comparison. Stout looking animals with beady green eyes and sloping brown faces and wild tawny hair that was just everywhere. Like little lions, and likely had the teeth to match. Catching one of them yawning would confirm the suspicion. Their wings were much larger as well, several feet from tip to tip in comparison to the mere foot or so on the smaller ones.

"They won't bother us," the general assured with a subtle chuckle. "The wizard tamed them to watch over the city."

"Watch over it from what?" Vanille asked, though sounding almost reluctant to hear the answer. The animals were making her a bit uneasy. Maybe it was the way they stared.

"The Wicked."

"Who are these wicked?" it was the mimic who asked now, curiosity getting the best of it.

"Anyone who would harm the wizard or those living within the walls of his city."

"And the witch of the west?"

General Jinjur cleared her throat as they ascended the steps to the towering double doors. They would swing steadily open as she reached the landing. "We don't speak of her often, and only to say that Oz would be a better place without her."

And no more would be discussed on the issue as they stepped through the doors and into the palace. Green marble made up the polished floors and numerous columns within, between each column stood a titanic bronze suit of armor, its empty helmet cast with a grimacing faceplate. And on the walls were various tapestries and adornments silently advertising the great Oz as a hero and powerful sorcerer. Alongside with depictions of pivotal moments in Ozian history such as the wizard being crowned by the last king, and what looked to be a paramount defeat of the witch of the west.

"Don't suppose we'll be meetin' his mystical majesty anytime soon, will we?" Fang asked as she took a look around, both wary and curious.

"I'm afraid it has grown late, and even the wizard must sleep, though arrangements have been made for you to stay in the palace. Your rooms are ready, giving you a moment to refresh yourselves while dinner is being prepared."

"Well, can't be too put off about it when ya put it like that." considering all any of them had had to eat for last week was whatever little wild game they could find along the road. Which hadn't been very much, to be honest.

"The wizard is very generous. You would be wise to show your gratitude once you _do_ meet him."

"Naturally." The huntress took it in stride though she felt an odd twinge of suspicion, perhaps it was the general's tone. She wasn't sure.

The palace was comprised of several levels, all ascending, which could be accessed by an elevator powered by wind-up clockwork. The mechanisms of such were some of the very few things in all of the city that weren't green, though the polished bronze of the cogs and springs made for beautiful contrast. The lift would take them nearly to the top, perhaps two floors shy of it, the gate of the lift sliding back to allow them to disembark into a corridor lined with doors and stained glass windows. All of them stepped off save for General Jinjur.

"You have your pick of the rooms, as you are the only guests tonight. I will send for you within the hour for supper." And she saluted them, arm across her chest momentarily before winding the lift again, and taking it on the descent.

Our party wouldn't go too far down the corridor before choosing a room, though all of them had that same unspoken sensation of overexposure to one another. The need to separate if you will, which is what they did, taking doors on opposing sides of the hall. Though not before a brief dialogue between Fang and Evaz.

"Keep an eye on the kid, yeah? She doesn't look too good."

"As she shouldn't." the mimic nodded once. "The sun is setting." and then it disappeared into the chosen room, door clicking closed.

Inside, the mimic stood by the door, lingering, watching with a slight twist of dismay around its eyes as the changeling began to twist out of her clothes.

"You should have said something."

Saba grunted, tearing the peasants blouse from over her head. "And what? It would not have changed anything. There's nothing to do about it."

"True." Then the lines around Evaz's eyes deepened. "Why do you talk like that to us...and not to the humes?"

Another grunt as she kicked the tattered skirt off her ankles. "I don't trust them."

"But you sound so similar." dismay was replaced with curiosity. It was true, it thought Saba's accent was nearly identical to Fang and Vanille's, yet the three of them couldn't be more different. Peculiar. "And even so...why speak to us like this?"

You could see the tension in the girl's muscles, all down her spotted back, even in the tail the twitched across her backside. The change was coming on, minutes away actually, and it was already _so_ uncomfortable. Like her skin simply didn't fit.

"Speaking the common language shows an understanding...a sort of...respect. They haven't earned that from me yet."

"But...aren't they our companions?"

"We travel together, that is _all_," she snapped, jaw tight. "They can't even be bothered to use my name. But you...you understand." her tone softened then, a sort of calm drifting into it. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder. "You showed me kindness though I tried to do you harm."

"Perhaps." it nodded, remembering its first encounter with the changeling in the city of the dead. "But the humes have not hurt you."

"They _would've_ had you not been there."

"Well," it contemplated, "you tried to eat the sprite."

"I was _starving_," she growled, lips pulling upward to better reveal the tusks. "I can guarantee you they would've done no different. I _was_ human."

"Yes, so you've said."

Saba held his seemingly indifferent gaze but a moment longer, then looked away, to the tall stained glass windows along the far wall. It was getting darker outside, the sun having almost disappeared beneath the horizon. She could feel the small hairs all across her body bristling, her skin becoming flushed with heat and sensitive. It was nearly time. She looked down at her hands, regarding them with quiet disgust.

"I was to be queen...yet now I am _this._"

"Chaos is...odd." the mimic added, certain of its analogy, yet uncertain of the word it used. Only a little though.

And that answer would have to do for the night.

Before the change -Evaz came to notice- there was a certain something, a silent drama that took place in Saba that began from the moment she realized the change was about to occur and lasting until the change completed. It always began with anxiety, anxious nerves in knowing what was coming, what she couldn't stop. Then, as her skin and bones began a steady burn, came fury. But the rage was so very brief, though not as brief as the momentary questions of why.

Why her? Why at all?

After that fury came a red haze of immense pain, and in the midst of that, in her mind, she battled with the dog, knowing she would lose. She would always lose. Then came sleep. A sudden blinking out, and then she would dream through the dog's eyes. Seeing what it saw, remembering what it remembered, unconsciously allowing it to crowd and overwhelm her own thoughts and memories. And that was how the dog would slowly wear away at her until she was gone.

That, as they would in time learn, was a changeling's ultimate fate.

Evaz would watch, unflinching, seeming equally fascinated as worried. The mimic would admit to having developed a certain...fondness for the changeling, though it couldn't explain the extent of it. Only that seeing her in such terrible pain caused a peculiar sensation in its chest. A hard pinch, something, it decided, it did not like. Thus relating pain as something unpleasant. And when the transformation completed, the screaming and growling having died down, the hyena plodded over to the mimic and looked up, tongue hanging from her mouth as she rose to her hindquarters and pawed at it, seeming to demand attention.

And this it when the mimic began to feel sympathy, as it pat the hyena's head.

In the other room, Vanille found herself standing before one of the stained glass windows, arms crossing her chest and her gaze fixed through an uncolored pane. The eastern horizon darkened quickly, and already stars were dotting the sky over Oz. She was feeling hints of the uneasiness about her again. As faint as the traces of it were it still garnered her attention, more so her worry.

What on Pulse were they even doing here? Part of her had to wonder.

_To fix my mess_.

The young Oerban sighed, her brow lowering over her sad green eyes. That was the truth of things, however indirect it may be. Her cowardice so many ages ago had shattered Time's wheel, left it a web, which was eventually unwoven, undoing everything she had ever known. Not to mention the seemingly countless lives the unraveling had ruined, such as that of the changeling's. An entire world gone, bringing about the reality they now faced with almost no certainty of what would become of them. Strangers in a strange land looking for relics that may or may not even exist, much less serve the purpose the dying deity had described to them in Valhalla. And, lastly, all that notwithstanding, what if they...

Failed?

"Hey, you all right?"

Vanille jumped a little, head snapping around to see Fang over her shoulder, not expecting for her to be standing so close.

"I-I'm fine," she settled. "Just thinking." and she tried to pass off a little laugh, though she wouldn't have been surprised if Fang saw right through it.

"Lookin' awful serious for 'just thinkin''. What's wrong?"

"Just," she rubbed her arms, "uneasy still."

"Don't blame ya. Still, somethin' you wanna talk about?"

"No, it's nothing," she smiled, again convinced she couldn't fake it to save her life. "Really."

Vanille could see it in Fang's eyes, she wasn't buying it. And the look broke her heart every time. That mixture of sadness and subdued, almost invisible but palpable frustration, always so hard to see. But not hard enough to drive her to the truth.

"If you're sure," Fang nodded. "In any case there's a bathtub in the next room, and I'm gettin' in it. And so are you."

"Bu-but I," before she could protest Fang had her by the shoulders and was steadily pushing her in the direction of the adjacent washroom.

"No arguments, missy. You've got a week's worth of travel funk on ya, and I'd sooner eat my heart out than roll around in such a nice bed in my own stink."

Well, in her defense, it _was_ a very nice bed.

The throne room of the palace was still so dark, heavy curtains drawn to keep out what little light lingered still in the sky. It was always dark, the wizard so sensitive even to sunlight. He sat in his throne, the green glow beneath his hood strong, brilliant, casting eerily across the floor. He wheezed and whirred in his seat, all his gears wound up that he might function. Tight skinned fingers -more like talons- drummed the arm of the throne.

His only natural eye rolled in the sunken socket, regarding the other three that stood before his throne. One directly in front of him, a second to his left, and a third to his right.

"**Advice...would be appreciated**." and the wizard's voice ground out of his body, heavily punctuated from something electronic riveted to his chest that vibrated as air passed through it. It sounded artificial, mechanical, inhuman.

The figure to his left, tall and streamlined from his shoulders to the floor, tilted his head upward. A dim gray light was cast over his face from below, contained there by the boundaries of a wide brimmed hat and high collar, revealing what looked like empty sockets.

"What is there to advise?" a breathy whisper, desiccated. "Kill them."

"**How?**"

"What does that matter?"

"Perhaps you could do it while they sleep. It'd be fun." said the figure to the right. Not quite as tall as the one across from him, but seeming just as thin. His voice was more full and lively, though shrill. You could always hear a nasty grin in there somewhere. "Maybe one of your trained monkeys could do it for you, or the Watcher." and he chuckled.

The wizard's body shivered with a contemplative sigh. "**And what do **_**you**_** say?**" he asked, shifting his attention to the one directly in front of him.

"Well, why waste a good opportunity?" an average looking man with a rather average, human sort of voice. Though he had a slight twang to his accent. "I'm sure you could find a way to use 'em to your advantage before... cuttin' 'em loose, so to speak."

"**What do you suggest?**"

"My friend, you've gone on and on about your little witch problem. Why not get them to solve it? Iffin' it gets 'em killed, I suppose that's just good fortune for _you_. If not, then that gets one rat outta your hair at the very least."

"**And then what?**"

He shook his head, dark hair tossing slightly against thin cheekbones. "Do I gotta do everythin' for you?" an empty laugh. "Go for the weakest link, Oz, that'll be your best bet. Do that hoodoo that you do so well and you're sure to find it."

Another contemplative shrug from the throne, the green light across the floor waxing and waning for a brief moment.

"**Very well. Now begone from me.**"

"You're welcome." a snide huff. "Ya sorry old spittoon."

And one by one the other three would disappear in a manner unique to each of them, though not so unique they require mentioning.

Oz continued to drum his fingers on the arm of his throne, the light beneath his hood waxing and waning once again as his thoughts began to roll between his ears, roll with the gears that kept him from being deaf.

As he settled into deep contemplation, the rustle and bustle of crow feathers in flight filled the throne room, settling nearby as was the habit.

"You summoned me, my lord?"

"**Every eye over Oz must be on them. Do you understand?**" the wizard's head turned, artificial parts clacking and grinding as he moved. "**Find the weak link for me. Tonight.**"

"As you wish, oh wizard."

And with a flurry of wings, just as when it entered, the Watcher departed fixed upon his task.

Author's Note: I'm feeling a lot more steam now, and hopefully its showing. I'm trying to settle into these new characters, it's been so long since I've had a lot of OC's. Some of it may seem pretty hacked together, and you're probably right about that. But exposition has never been my strong suit, and having been carrying it out so long has got me a little anxious. In any case, plot's moving along, and I'll be getting into more personal stuff in the next chapter should anyone bother to continue. Questions and constructive criticism are welcome, especially now in the early chapters. But if you're just going to bitch, move along.


	6. Chapter 5

**Lords of Chaos**

**Chapter Five**

_Monkey see, monkey tell, I always say. Or do I?_

The folks in Oz really knew how to bathe. The bathroom was spacious, even had its own fireplace should the occupants fear getting a chill. Green marble stretched from floor to ceiling with accents of gold and ivory in between. More of the elaborate stained glass windows lined the walls, one of them pushed open to reveal the eastern horizon already dotted with stars.

And the commode was solid gold. Talk about swanky.

Steam was beginning to fog the edges of the mirror over the wash basin as Vanille stood before it, removing her adornments one by one and setting them neatly on a fluffy green towel she had arranged an arm's length away. The sound of rushing water filling the large tub just steps away was threatening to drown out her thoughts, which she wasn't completely opposed to. Not completely as she was convinced a part of her enjoyed the quiet misery of fretting over the current state of things: Chaos, time unraveling, her mess...those sorts of things became almost...comfortable. It kept her mind occupied, and the self loathing was just so much of a mainstay at this point. Still, a half hour or so without all that buzzing between her ears might be worth while.

"Still so serious," Fang sighed. She had suddenly appeared behind Vanille hands working at the knot at the nape of her neck. She carefully pulled the string of beads away and let them coil on the towel. "Must got an awful lot on your mind. Up or down?"

For a moment Vanille had to think, seeing as her partner had already loosed her pigtails without her notice. "Oh, up please."

Fang put one of the ties between her teeth, her hands busily but smoothly gathering up all of her wild red tresses into a twist that she secured with the other. "Hey, squishy, go watch the door, would ya? Just in case that lady general comes back."

"Opo-po," the sprite replied with a nod, drifting out of the washroom where it had been hovering for several minutes now. Fang would then step away from Vanille to close the door, certain the imp was off on its errand.

"That's better," she sighed. "Don't take the little fella as a peeper, but best not risk it, eh?"

Vanille giggled a little, her arms twined around her torso to pull her top over her head. She pretended not to notice the subtle way Fang's gaze shifted from slightly amused to perfectly focused on her now bare breasts. A look that Vanille was all too familiar with, and found herself becoming mildly anxious over. Was now really the time, was it really the place for that? And she was just as familiar with the simple fact that these considerations would never grace her partner's mind.

Fang would approach her again, a particular sway to her casual strides, and once more settled just behind her. Her heated palms flattened over Vanille's stomach, her tanned skin contrasting the younger woman's pallor. The huntress craned her neck just so, mouth drawing near to Vanille's ear.

"Been too long," she breathed, "feels like eons since I touched you."

"F-Fang, I," almost instinctively her arms crossed over her chest, covering herself.

"Come on, tell me you don't feel the same," Fang tucked against the bend of her neck, arms circling Vanille's waist like a python. Secure, snug. "I dare ya," then she kissed her shoulder.

Vanille could feel hot blood pooling in her cheeks already, just at this slight advance. Her body shivered in Fang's arms, hardly able to control herself. "F-Fang...the bath."

"I know, I know, don't you worry," in the back of her mind she was hoping Vanille could feel her sly smile against her skin. Smiling as her hands worked unnoticed at the buckle of her belt. "But we can't have ya gettin' in without the proper attire, can we?"

An audible gasp worked its way out of the redhead as Fang forced her skirt over her meager hips with a firm push and simply allowed the garment the slide down her legs to pool over her feet without so much as a second thought. Fang's hands would settle there for a moment, over the slight swell of Vanille's hips, her smile widening, now catlike.

"Much better," it was a purring sigh of a statement, "now the boots."

"Don't rush me." another nervous giggle.

"I wanna see you. And I don't feel like waitin'." that purr roughened a little, lowering in register as Fang pressed her cheek to the soft and bound red tresses behind Vanille's ear. She took a deep breath through her nose, taking her in. "Please?"

"Since you were nice enough to ask," Vanille watched her own expression quirk with a slight smile in the foggy mirror, her hands moving away from hiding her breasts to brace her balance against Fang's arms while she stepped out of her shoes. Then she caught her partner's eyes in the mirror. "Better?"

Before Fang answered she carefully tugged on Vanille's shoulders, making her turn to face her. Well, to be more accurate, Fang didn't speak a word in response, though her body language was answer enough.

Having been in love for what felt like forever, Vanille didn't always need Fang to vocalize what was on her mind, which was convenient considering her lover wasn't so well acquainted with words in emotional situations. Just the setting of her wild green eyes, the dusky brows, could tell Vanille a million different things without so much as a whisper. Like now, with her brow slightly lowered and eyes somber, and a leveling of her mouth, she knew Fang was full of more emotion than she could fully express. There was simply too much. Vanille put her hands to Fang's chest, feeling her weight shift slightly forward as she thought to rise to the balls of her feet. In the same instant as she pushed upward, Fang's hands were at her cheeks, pulling her in. A kiss, something both had been wanting, though Vanille hadn't realized how badly until their lips touched and the tiniest whimper slipped through her.

The smell, the taste, the feel...good gods, had she been missing this.

Gooseflesh rippled across her skin and Vanille found herself leaning into her lover, supported. When their lips separated but a moment later, it left her panting quietly, a bright red blush across her cheeks. She looked up to see Fang had regained her smug smile.

"Pretty girl," she said quietly, the calloused pad of her thumb circling one reddened cheek. "Help me undress?"

A little of the magic died at the request, though the younger Oerban didn't much mind. She knew what Fang was after, never doubted it for a second, giving cause for her own knowing grin. Even as the huntress insisted that she was just too tired from the trip to do it herself, Vanille could only shake her head with a playful sigh as she began to unwind the stunning blue silk from about her shoulders.

With all garments neatly folded and set aside, the water shut off with the tub nearly full, the two stepped into the steaming water -with room to spare- and found it in themselves to actually relax for the first time in days. For the first few moments they simply sat still, braced against the sides of the tub with their eyes closed as if in sleep, just enjoying the heat around their weary frames. Once the novelty of that wore off, which took a while, Vanille reached for a cloth and a bar of soap from a small table beside the tub to begin the ritual of actually cleaning up. With a well rehearsed gesture to Fang, the elder Oerban turned around, water splashing, to put her back to her partner. Just like when they were kids.

"Oh, that feels good," a groan rumbled through the huntress as the rough texture of the cloth scratched her skin. "Scratch my shoulders, would ya?"

"I'm sure you can reach it." Vanille smirked.

"But you do it better." Fang whined a little, though she was smiling too. "Please?"

"All right," she reached up with both hands, fingers curling, and dragged her nails down her lover's back.

"Sweet gods, yes, that's it," her entire body shivered.

And Vanille would quietly continue, alternating between scrubbing and scratching, moving across her back, her strong shoulders and arms, and everywhere else all the while enjoying the pleased noises that came from her. At some point Vanille made a little game out of it, drawing in the soap bubbles with her fingertip. Dragon wings over her pronounced shoulder blades and little sheep around the small of Fang's back alongside nonsensical swirls and spirals. Fang was accustomed to it, so she sat patiently and without complaint, chin propped on her folded hands. It was more comforting than an annoyance, so why argue?

The huntress let out a long, contented sigh as hot water rushed over her skin and washed the suds away. She then reached back with one hand, making a gripping gesture. "A'right, your turn."

They switched positions, careful not to send any water over the edges of the tub as Fang settled behind Vanille, grabbing up the soap. The redhead winced at first, Fang could be rough sometimes and she was far from expecting that sort of treatment. Just like her tender and aching shoulders weren't. Then again, the occasional forcefulness was one of things she loved about the huntress, as ill-timed as it could be.

"This stuff smells like...like poppies." Fang said quietly. "Not so bad."

"I like it."

"Kinda girly,"

"What, you're not a girl?" she giggled.

"Nope. I'm all woman," a deep-throat chuckle. Fang cupped her hands in the water and opened them over Vanille's shoulders. "Now c'mere,"

The redhead squeaked as Fang's arms circled her, secure, and pulled her in. Her arms were trapped against her chest, wrists pressed together between her breasts, helpless.

"I told ya," the huntress purred, "the _minute_ I got ya to myself..."

"Fang I-," she tried to protest, even as Fang demanded her attention with a gentle push on her jaw.

"Just hush up and kiss me, yeah?"

Not like there was room for her to refuse. The huntress' grip on her only tightened, the press of her kiss hungry and insistent. Vanille could feel powerful thighs tucking against her, ankles locking to keep her in place, all of these actions forcing the blood even hotter into her cheeks as she relented to them. She had no control, but that was the usual. Fang was much more forward with lovemaking than herself. Though she found that she liked being subject to her whims on occasion, she liked it when her lover expressed that strength and confidence in such a way. And though her better judgment was throwing up red flags -such as "not now", or "someone might see"- she didn't heed them. She had missed Fang so much during their long sleep, her tangible touch most of all, that she simply refused to listen. Better judgment be damned.

Fang didn't want to let go, even as Vanille tried to move her hands to touch her, she held tight to her wrists with a curt sort of growl the shook her lover and made her whimper quietly. But the huntress tamed herself a little, loosening her grip as she pushed her tongue passed the gentle resistance of Vanille's lips. Goosebumps rippled across her flesh as dainty fingers lanced through dusky tresses and gently scratched the scalp. Fang's hands wandered down from Vanille wrists, always touching, following the firm outline of the bone to the elbow, and then down to the bend of the girl's shoulders. From there descending still, over the slight rises of her ribs to her waist, and then crossing to fan her hands over Vanille's taut stomach. Vanille shivered in her arms, another breathy whimper followed by a demanding press of her lips. She couldn't help but smirk at the reaction, having expected and wanted just that. Vanille could be so timid about their intimacy. Then again, that was one of the things Fang found so loveable about her.

Vanille found herself overcome with tremors and whimpers as she felt Fang's slick palms ease up her stomach to cup her breasts, fingers gently hooking into the plump flesh, showing urgent desire. Then those skilled, smooth and calloused fingers found the upthrust and reddened blossoms of her nipples to tease.

"Gods," she breathed, unable to hold the kiss any longer.

Fang chuckled softly. "A little too much for ya, darlin'? I could stop," then she felt the hands in her hair tighten into fists, a sudden motion which gave a clear answer. "Then again, I suppose I could keep goin'." and she laughed again as the grip gave way and the hands sank down to rest behind her neck.

Vanille let her head fall back against her lover's shoulder, eyes closed as she panted, her hot breath against Fang's neck. She was shivering again as she felt Fang's hands moving lower, across her stomach and further. Out of instinct perhaps, or her inherent timidity, her thighs pressed together, denying her lover access.

"Tut, tut, let's not be shy." Fang cooed, craning her neck to kiss the heavy pulse in the girl's throat as her hands worked to pry her legs apart. "'sides, it's just us."

True. So she relaxed, though still shook a little.

"That's a girl," the huntress purred between kisses, "just relax."

One tanned hand skimmed down against the pallor of Vanille's thigh, the back of Fang's fingers brushing against the skin to bring out a series of unsteady mewls and sighs. Lower and lower, a languid pace, passing through the crimson curls beneath the water's surface. Without hesitation her fingertips started working, gentle circles, knowing caresses.

Vanille reacted so beautifully to the intimate touch, back bowing with a quiet gasp, water rolling against the edges of the tub with the sudden motion. Her arms around Fang's neck tightened, almost fearing for life and limb in their temerity. But just as suddenly as her body lifted, it fell back to the water.

Vanille screamed.

"C'mon, babe, we just started and-," though her statement paused as she saw Vanille tucking her limbs in tight, as if to hide, her green eyes wide and glued, it seemed, to the ceiling. Fang couldn't help but look up, see what was obviously so wrong. "Monkeys!"

At least fifty of the little ones lined side by side along the moldings of the room, crouching room only as they all crammed together on the ledge. Their beady green eyes in the darkness of evening cast an eery light that highlighted their little white mustaches.

"Scram, ya little blighters!" Fang scrambled for the soap, chucking it full force towards the troop that scattered in a flurry of screeches and feathers as it knocked against the wall over their little heads. They circled the ceiling en mass and then spilled through the open window.

The huntress quickly pulled herself out of the tub and rushed with only a modicum of care to the window to slam it shut.

"Damn flying weasels," she cursed, her teeth tight together. She turned back, dripping from head to toe, and looked at her partner as she tucked behind the edge of the tub. With a sigh her frustration left her face, leaving her looking discouraged. "Suppose that's gone and killed it, yeah?"

Vanille only nodded, her heart still in her throat from the shock of it all. No room for any more romance tonight. Not after that. "I'm sorry." she squeaked after a moment.

"No worries. Guess this is better, probably have dinner ready soon. C'mon, let's get ourselves dried off."

The flying monkeys wouldn't leave the palace entirely. In the darkness outside they would fly outward from the window then bank to return the way they came, only adjusting their route to climb the palace walls to reach the steeples adorning the roof. A darker shape, darker still than the night itself, was perched up here, the burlap and wooden Watcher, and it waited patiently for the monkeys to all gather like school children before their tutor. All in a line, one by one. Once all were still and accounted for, their eyes began to glow, emerald shimmering casting across the Watcher's wiry form. The single eye in its own head was glowing too, absorbing the magic that flowed from the tiny creatures into it, allowing it to see what they had seen and hear whatever they had heard. Once they had imparted all they had, the glowing would fade and die away. In the shadows, the Watcher's stitched maw would turn down at the edges, the one eye thinning behind the pulled cloth.

"I cannot use this," it hissed as a breeze through a keyhole, "but the Wizard must know all the same. Go, all of you. Keep looking."

The monkeys ascended anew, as one, a chattering cloud that would disappear the way they had come.

The Watcher sighed, curiosity stretching its textile features. "Mayhaps," it groaned in its chest. "Mayhaps the executioner has heard something." and the being would disappear as usual, in a mess of crow feathers collapsing around it. It would reappear within the palace walls, in a dark and empty corridor full of suits of armor along the walls. It would walk along their file, spying each one in turn as if searching for something particular. Then it would stop, arms bent clumsily behind it.

"Ah, here you are."

The statue it beheld began to move, joints screeching together as metal kissed metal. A rush of air moved through the grimacing faceplate as its position shifted from arms at its side to crossed over its broad chest. It said nothing, though its posture expressed some inquiry.

"What voices bounce off these walls tonight? The great and powerful is greatly curious."

Still no words, though something inside of the armor began to shine, a gentle glow looking to come from somewhere in the belly of it. And while the Watcher had no visible ears, nothing sewn to its head to even resemble such things, it could hear just as well. Through such magic the armor spoke though the corridor remained silent. The Watcher nodded a time or two, eye wandering as if in contemplation. With gnarled, root like fingers it stroked the sagging bulge in its burlap throat as the stitches in its lips tightened to form a subtle grin.

"Yes, yes," came a hissing through the stitches. "I see. Yes, our lord Wizard will be pleased. Many thanks, neck-splitter."

A grumble rattled through the armor, emanating an air of displeasure.

"I know it's not your name, but it is my name for you, and you'll like it. Now back to your rounds."

Another growl of sound shook from the armor before the gentle light inside it died. Now the relic was truly empty, the consciousness in it having fled to find roost in another of the hundreds of copies around the palace. Only one of them was the actual body of the creature, and rarely was it inhabited.

The Watcher would disappear as well, off to tell its master of what it now knew.

_(-)_

Dawn was now approaching, and our travelers would be woken in turn with a gentle knocking on their doors. The changeling and the mimic had not slept, so they were timely to emerge into the hallway, greeted by the head of the household, a young woman that introduced herself as Jellia Jamb. Sweet girl, to be sure, you could hear it in her voice as she instructed Evaz and Saba that General Jinjur was waiting to take them to the Wizard. The mimic only nodded at the instructions, the hyena walking at its side as they approached the lift.

The humes would take a little more effort to rouse from sleep, as their rest had not been very sound for suspicion of more monkeys in their room. When they did come into the corridor, similarly greeted, they went to the lift as well, taking it down to the ground floor and meeting with the others. Like before, they would follow the good general through the palace, deeper into it. The further they delved, the more noticeable the change in the layout of the place. Gradually diminishing numbers of the ornate stained glass windows, and an equal increase of those hulking bronze suits of armor. At the time, these changes didn't raise any form of alarm. Though Vanille sensed something...odd.

"The wizard will visit with each of you in turn." The general commented as she pushed wide a pair of double doors. It led into a great round chamber, the first traces of sunlight peeking through the windows high up on the walls.

"Why not all together?" Fang had to ask.

"Our Lord Oz is very particular, there is no other explanation. Now, if you will please wait here, I will see if the wizard is ready to receive you."

There were plump sofas and chaises propped against the wall, more than enough room for everyone to have a seat and be comfortable.

"What do you suppose the wizard will be like?" Vanille looked to Fang, elbows on her knees and chin in her palms. The moogle hovered nearby.

Fang stretched, suppressing a yawn before responding. "Dunno, no way of guessin' in this hokey place. Whatever he is, I'm gonna have a few choice words with him about those fluttering fur balls."

"The monkeys aren't all that bad,"

"I'm not sayin' they are," a slight chuckle, "but the last place I wanted 'em was in our room last night. Catch my drift?"

"Well, yeah," her head tilted to the side, red hair drifting against her neck. "The little ones are kind of cute though."

"Hmph."

Not too far away, a couple of sofas over, Evaz stood still, showing no interest in sitting or a hint of needing to. Though the hyena had other ideas, stretching across the plump cushion. Her ears were low and her sides moved in and out with a swiftness, a slight whimper in every other breath. The sun was coming up, the discomfort of the change starting to settle in. Evaz watched the changeling in distress, feeling that odd pinch in what it identified as its chest, maybe even its heart. Something was beating in there in any case, might as well give it a name. This compelled the mimic to sit and put its hand on Saba's head, stroking back against the rough ridge of fur going down her neck. The whimpering appeared to cease, but the poor thing still seemed so...unwell.

Mere minutes would tick by on the grandfather clock against the wall before the good general returned to the waiting room. The humes made curious faces when she asked for the hyena first, the expressions holding as the changeling eased off the sofa, the pressure of simply walking seeming to cause pain in her paws. Saba would tail General Jinjur through another hefty pair of doors that opened into a great blackness, the only light -which seemed to come from nowhere- illuminating a rather lengthy flight of stairs slithering steadily upward.

The hyena seemed to grumble at the task, but undertook it all the same, wincing every other step as the pressure on the rough pads of its paws grew less and less tolerable. The general was kind enough to open the door to allow her entrance, and would remain outside the door to pull it gently closed as the animal stepped through.

The throne room was dim still with dawn, but lightening quickly. The sound of running water echoed off the walls and columns as the meager light grew to reveal a fountain in the middle of the room. It was so spacious, like a palace in itself. It would seem for a split second that Saba forgot all about her meeting with the wizard and was overcome with incredible thirst, as the hyena's tongue wagged out of its mouth and the panting grew louder. Though she would only make it half way, the change settling in as the first rays of morning came crashing through the windows.

The muzzle curled into a snarl, the jaw parting slightly to release this horrible grunting growl of pain, something inside of it jerking out of place with the transformation. The animal flattened to the marble floor, twisting onto her back until the change completed itself. Stiff, chest heaving for air, Saba rolled onto her hands and knees, head tucked and droplets of sweat rolling from her thick furrowed brow. It took some time, as usual, for the pain to subside. Once it had, she straightened and took an unhurried look about the chamber. She was alone.

She didn't appear to care as she stood up with a grunt of protest, one hand moving to wipe a stray bit of foam from the edge of her mouth. Unsteadily she approached the fountain, dropping heavily to one knee at its edge in order to drink. The water was soothing, cold, and tasted clean.

"Forgive my tardiness, your highness."

Saba lifted her head, neck straining as if it weighed a ton, and she glared at whoever spoke with her good eye. But only for a moment before lowering her head again to sip up what water was left in her palm.

"I'm not your queen." the changeling growled low.

"But you are one, aren't you?"

"Hmph." Saba turned away from the fountain, staying crouched to hide her nakedness, and so she could easily see with her uninjured eye. "What's with the glamor?"

If this was indeed the wizard, he had chosen a peculiar form indeed. A fae of some kind, a large one with an emerald green dress that spilled across the floor at her feet, long golden hair with a wreath of white roses and daisies about her head, and gossamer wings that were near invisible until they caught the morning light.

"Ah, I am an old wizard, and the years have not been kind to me." the fae giggled a little behind her dainty hand as she sat on the edge of the fountain.

"Something we have in common."

"I understand."

The changeling sniffed, one brow lifting. "Do you now?"

"I do." the fairy put her palms together for a brief moment, and when she opened them there appeared a smooth and dark green orb cradled between her palms. "The rainbow has revealed your troubles to me."

Saba's eyes widened and focused on the relic. "So you have it?"

"In part. You see it rests in pieces, bends."

The changeling's expression sank. "Yes. I see. Would you surrender it to me?"

"Well, yes and no. Nothing in Oz is free, your highness."

"Then what am I to do?"

"I'm afraid a great deal. But I imagine you are more than wise enough to have guessed as much. Else you wouldn't have asked."

"True."

"You see, the rainbow is made of thirteen such bends, four of which are here in Oz. I posses three of them."

"And the fourth?"

"The red one is in the hands of the Wicked Witch of the West."

"Of course it is." a little growl rumbled through her, frustration laced. "If you are so great and powerful, as everyone claims, why not destroy her?"

"Though I am the ruler of this land, I am still bound by its laws. Ozians are not permitted to kill. That aside, however, I cannot even leave the Emerald City. It would leave my citizens defenseless."

Saba nodded slowly. "So, we do away with your witch and deliver the orb, then what?"

"I will gift them to you, and send you on your way."

"That is all?"

"Unless," the wizard paused, chin tucking, hands wringing together to show hesitation. "one as noble as yourself would be willing to offer up a favor."

Saba pondered the fairy a moment, eyes thin. "In my land, like here, nothing is free."

"Of course not," the wizard giggled again, his femininity flawless. "But the witch is in possession of something else I require, something more important to me than the bends. More so, someone."

"Who?"

"As I said before," the wizard sighed pitifully, "I am old and tired, and my time is surely short. But I could not bear to leave the good people of Oz with an empty throne, and the witch has taken my only heir."

Saba heard no dishonesty, nor sensed any deception, though there was a slight suspicion to her instincts in regards to what she was being told. "Well," she started, a little cautious, "between the four of us, we should be able to get them back."

"Oh no,"

Saba caught the wizard's motion towards her, the hand gesture meaning for her to stop. She didn't like it one bit. "What?"

"Please, your highness, only you can accomplish this task for me."

Her brow furrowed, seemingly unconvinced. "Yes, now I see that your years have been long indeed."

"No, please, understand." the fae pleaded. "You are not like those you travel with, you are _stronger_. You could stand up to _anything_ the witch might do to stop you."

Saba looked away, shaking her head. "I don't understand, you're speaking nonsense, wizard."

"You have the heart of a queen, those with you do not."

"I _know_," the changeling growled, fangs revealed. "But you're still not making sense."

"Then, if it pleases you, allow me to show you."

As little patience as she felt she had, Saba entertained the wizard, looking on as the fae placed the green bend of the rainbow into the water of the fountain. Before it even touched the bottom the water began to still and glow bright with its color. Like the surface of an emerald mirror.

"Come and see." the wizard urged with the curling of one dainty hand.

Saba shifted beside the fairy, back to it, and looked into the water. The colors went dark, the image holding no reflection of herself or the wizard as it rippled and changed. Then appeared the very clear and steady image of a full moon hanging in a midnight sky, wreathed in stars. And beneath it, a darkened desert landscape dotted with several campfires.

Saba's firm countenance softened, eyes widening again, though slightly. "Home."

"Yes, your kingdom. This is what you last remember, isn't it?"

The image changed again as Saba watched without blinking, changed to show herself before Chaos touched her, show her walking through the Kes'shian camp tall and proud. Other Kes'shians dipped their heads in respect as she passed.

"I...yes, it is. I thought...becoming this beast was just a dream."

"Yes, but what you didn't see was Chaos invading your time."

But she would see it now through the wisdom of the bend, the black mist curling and coiling over the desert, consuming everything. When everything disappeared, Saba couldn't stop herself from wincing away.

"But this wasn't how it was supposed to be." the wizard continued. "You were meant to go on and be a great leader, a legendary warrior."

"It was my hope."

"It was destined to be, but something...someone made time unravel."

"I _know_," she growled again, pain in her face at the sight of her own demise in the water. "And I will kill the one they call Caius with my own two hands once I find him."

"It was not Caius who caused this." the wizard shivered as the changeling looked back at him, the eyes so intense.

"Explain." Saba snarled.

"Let me show you," the fairy touched the water with a single fingertip, the image shivering and changing once again. "Long after your great reign, hundreds of years even, came a great war on your world."

Saba managed to look back again into the fountain, seeing as a great conflict played out in the water. Warships, Fal'Cie, fire and calamity filled the sky, and Pulse lay below, ravaged by conflict. It broke her heart, as Gran Pulse had once been so beautiful.

"Two were tasked by your gods to end the war once and for all." the wizard would watch the changeling's expression as the images in the fountain shifted once more, settling on two young women.

The wizard would hide a sly smile as Saba gaped at the vision, recognizing the Oerbans. "But they failed. And all due to the cowardice of one, which would set in motion the events that allowed Caius to do what he has done."

Saba felt the muscles in her jaw tightened, the pressure making her teeth creak as the fairy pointed to the redhead.

"If _she_ was so weak as to even disobey your _gods_, there's no telling what power the witch would hold sway over her."

Saba's body shook, her mind hot and ticking like a time bomb as it jumped from thought to thought. Her nostrils flared and her palms burned as her hands curled into tight fists, claws cutting. Perhaps out of a reaction to the sheer disgust and fury rolling through her, Saba stood straight up, turning away from the fountain.

The fairy fell to her knees on the floor, hands together as if in prayer. "Now you see, your majesty..._you _are the only one I can count on. Please...I beg you."

The changeling turned back and looked to see the great and powerful Oz kowtowing at her feet. Somehow the gestured served to curtail some of the anger, allowed Saba to tuck it away for another time. With a less savage air she regarded the fae.

"I deliver your heir...what will you give me in return?"

"With the power all four of the bends I can give you anything you wish. Command me, your highness, and I will obey."

Saba's eyes thinned further, turned so cold, so sharp. "Then you will lift this curse from me. Make me who I was."

"Of course, oh thank you, my queen, _thank you_!" you would think the fae was on the brink of hysterics, the way it carried on.

"But mark my words." Saba continued. "You cross me, and you will know my displeasure."

"I wouldn't dare, put all your trust in me."

"Good. Now tell me where I can find this Witch of the West."

The wizard would regale the changeling in all she would need to know and then sent her on her way, quickly altering his form into something else as the next of them came up the stairs to the throne room. All the while he had to make a conscious effort not to laugh. He had played to the savage's ego and made out like a bandit.

Now all there was left to do was hold the pretenses for but a while longer. Just be patient and he would have everything brought to him on an emerald platter.

Just be patient.

Author's Note: This last bit was actually pretty smooth to write, nice change of pace. Now, here's where we make or break this project, true believers. I'm in desperate need of honest and constructive feedback. Or, at the very least, a vote of yay or nay on this yarn I'm weaving. If it's good enough, let me know, leave a comment. You can also check out artwork for this fic on my DA page under the username Luckyfirerabbit if you're not too clear on what some of my OC's look like. In other news, no telling when the next chapter is coming out, in fact that's going to depend heavily on the reception of this. So if you want more, you gotta tell me! Lots of love to all of ya, catch ya on the flip side!


	7. Chapter 6

**Lords of Chaos**

**Chapter Six**

_At times the only difference between a hero and a villain is who is the better liar._

They would leave the Emerald City early that afternoon, after the wizard had palavered with each in turn and made arrangements for a meal. They would be met outside the southern gate where they had entered by one of General Jinjur's officers and a detachment of soldiers. They would be their escort to their next destination, the Cloister of Saint Galinda, which lay waiting to the southwest, off the beaten path of the Yellow Brick Road. They would arrive in about a day, coming into its stone walls by mid afternoon, where they would rest and be supplied before given further direction. The cloister was seated near Gillikin River, which they would be taking north by northwest, into Winkie Country. Or The Vinkus if you prefer. Folks out there don't take very kindly to the prior term.

Our party was given a sturdy ferry, typically meant for merchants and their goods, to carry them upriver. It wouldn't be nearly as long a trip as it was reaching the Emerald City. That little stroll took them about a week, this would take only hours. Give or take as each would take turns pushing the raft against the current.

"So the wizard was a ball of fire?" Fang grunted curiously as she pushed the the ferry on. "Odd."

Vanille sat nearby, the moogle in her lap and between her hands. "No more odd than you saying he was invisible."

"True." dusky brows drew together and she nodded.

The wizard, as it would turn out, chose a different manifestation to present to each of them, no two exactly alike, none of them even faintly resembling his actual appearance. As mentioned, the wizard was nowhere to be seen, but heard and sensed by the huntress during her audience with him. And Vanille beheld a writhing mass of fire the teemed and seethed in and out of vague shapes, one being somewhat humanoid.

"He tell you the same thing he told me?"

"'Bring me the head of the Witch of the West.'" Vanille sighed a little sadly. "Yup. I don't like the idea."

"Well, no, I doubt we're supposed to." Fang cocked her head slightly, agreeing. "Still, if it's the only way we can get the bends of the rainbow, then we best do it."

"I know." another weary sigh."

"Opo-po." the sprite looked up at her, sympathetic sounding.

Fang's expression quirked again, regarding the imp. "Didn't you say the wizard worked some sort of mojo on squishy?"

"Oh yeah," her tone lifted a little as she urged the moogle to hover, her hands still beneath it. "Show her,"

"Opo!"

And there was a loud _pop_ and a flash of light, the moogle vanishing from sight completely, leaving something else in its place now resting in Vanille's hands. A fine wooden staff, wood winding together to join at the top, where was carved the grimacing visage of some horned beast. The wizard had somehow melded the sprite with the Oerban's wand, creating the relic.

"So what's it do? Sure, you could crack some skulls with it,"

"There's some magic in it," Vanille said, "I can almost feel it. Maybe it'll even the odds a bit for us." Then the staff became the imp once again, another _pop_ cutting the air.

"We can hope, can't we?" a lackluster chuckle and a grunt. "What about you, Evaz? Oi...where is it?"

The two humes looked about for the mimic, unable to see it. That was until what appeared to be some sort of house cat-sized slug lurched over the side of the raft. It was purple for the most part, with a white stripe with brown flecks down its back. The gelatinous stalks emerged from the face to reveal the eyes, and they regarded the women who slightly flinched.

"You called?"

"The hell are you doin'?"

"Being a slug." it responded flatly, with all sincerity. "What did you want?"

"We just wanted to ask about your meeting with the wizard. What did he tell you?" Vanille was grinning, thinking the mimic looked kind of cute.

"We doubt it was much different from what he discussed with you. The demise of the witch was his request, the bends of the rainbow our reward."

"What did he look like when ya met him?" Fang asked.

The eyes drifted close together as the mimic thought through its answer, making Vanille giggle a little. "This and that." the mimic continued when it deciphered the curiosity on their faces. "He initially appeared to me as some kind of beast, some ugly gray thing with a big horn on its nose."

Though it hadn't disgusted Evaz to look upon the wizard in such a guise, even with the puffs of steam coming out of the monster's nostrils. Instead it changed its shape to copy the creature, just shy of perfect, garnering the wizard's surprise. A veil of smoke erupted from the floor and would clear to reveal that the wizard had shifted shape again, into the fae. Again Evaz would copy the manifestation. This would happen several times until the wizard dropped his many guises -but not all of them- and stood before Evaz as a balding senior in a green waistcoat and pinstripe trousers. He was amused, though he shrugged "you are_ tiresome_". To which the mimic flatly replied "no, we are Evaz".

"Still, the discussion was the same." It was only after finishing its account that the mimic saw fit to return to its original form. At least the form it was most familiar with.

From there it seemed the conversation died, the hume's curiosity sated. Or, the mimic supposed, she simply didn't wish to ask the only other person she hadn't. Evaz turned its head to look at the edge of the raft, where Saba now sat. She had been there since they set out, all the while quiet and looking rather distant. Evaz found the expression unusual as the changeling was typically so focused. It had been this way since her audience with the wizard, though she had yet to say anything as to why the change had occurred. With but a few steps the mimic approached her and sank to her level, all its limbs tucked withing the confines of its cloak.

"You make that face," it began almost cautiously, quietly, "why? What does it mean?"

For a moment Saba was still, posture and expression unchanged, then she pushed a set of claws carefully through her mussed hair. Though she didn't speak, it seemed like she wanted to.

"What did the wizard tell you?"

Saba looked at the mimic, though the gaze was unsteady, her thoughts going back to but hours ago. She felt as though she could trust the mimic, but didn't trust it enough to divulge her clandestine agreement with Oz.

_"It's best you keep it to yourself, your highness,"_ the wizard had cautioned as their meeting drew to a close. _"They would surely try to hinder your errand. But don't worry, my agents will be nearby for you."_ Though she had yet to see a hint of said agents.

"No more than you." she shrugged finally, looking away with her brow tight over her eyes.

"We sense...something is wrong." though the idea of "wrong" was a relatively new concept.

"Hah, there's plenty wrong." that was the closest she had yet come to laughing. "Everything's wrong. I shouldn't even be here."

"Yet here you are. But...at least you are not alone."

"Yes. I suppose having you around...makes things a little more tolerable."

Evaz slanted his eyes towards her, curious. "You're still...adverse to them?" The mimic was a little behind, but it wasn't stupid. You'd have to be blind not to see it.

"I am indifferent of the sprite, but," her claws raked her scalp again. "The gods never meant for people like...that."

"What? Explain."

"_Man_ was made to love woman. Considering the trouble he is the gods wouldn't have bothered with him otherwise."

"What does that have to do with the humes?"

"I don't suppose you've noticed, can't say I expected you to. Still...they love each _other_." She had seen the signs, put the pieces together. A too long lingering glance here, a stray touch there. And the hyena had seen plenty, which she could remember.

The mimic regarded her with all sincerity. "So?" Why did this matter so much? What was love anyway?

"It isn't natural."

"And...this...disgusts you?" it watched her expression shift with a slight grunt, deciphered it, thus eliminating the need for a vocalized answer. "Curious. Is this why you cannot trust them?"

"No, but it doesn't help matters." Saba's lips curled back slightly, teeth showing.

"Then what? Explain."

Her lips lifted a little further, her jaw tightening. "It's all their fault to begin with. It's their fault I'm cursed."

"How do you know this?"

"The wizard showed me with his bauble."

"And you believed him?"

Saba turned her head, a snap of motion that tossed her hair, and her expression twisted with dismay. "Shouldn't I have?"

"We would not have, not so readily. At least we think. We simply cannot help but be wary of someone with so many faces yet only one name."

Her eyes thinned. "Like yourself?"

The mimic blinked, its pale brows rising. "Oh...well...yes. We see." Then it nodded. "But we stand by our suspicion."

"And if you are right, I will admit to my mistake and cry your pardon."

"Our pardon would make you cry?"

Another almost laugh, the lines in her face thinning. "Where I come from, warriors don't cry, though admitting I'm wrong would depress me indeed."

Behind them, the humes looked on. Unable to hear, but watching almost too closely without actually meaning to.

"Did the kid just laugh?" Fang raised one dusky brow, mildly surprised.

"Opo-po," the moogle cooed warily.

"I hope so," Vanille was making a similar, though decidedly more concerned expression. "Maybe she won't snarl so much."

"Don't ask for miracles ya can't bring about yourself, darlin'. That's heartache waitin' to happen."

The ferry would forge further and further up the Gillikin river, on into evening, finally docking at the meager peer on its western bank. From here our band would make the mile or so trek to the Vinkus town of Broken Bottle. They would keep a low profile as they stayed the remainder of the night there, doing their best to avoid any unnecessary conversation or interaction with the locals. There was no telling if the wizard had any allies out here. Thankfully the night came and went without incident, and they would be on their way south come sunrise. Kiamo Ko was the castle of the Wicked Witch of the West, which was roughly two days down the road, called Locklimb Trail, from Broken Bottle.

And Evaz worried. Fancy that. The mimic seemed to have discovered the sensation shortly after arriving in the little mountain shadowed town and had been unable to let it go since. Troubling to be sure, but only at first, just until it discovered what it was worrying over. Saba. It wasn't entirely sure why, but she was at the heart of it. Maybe it was her aversion to it, to divulging the details of her audience with the wizard, or perhaps it was how that distant look still etched her face. Or a culmination of all those things. Whatever the case, it was causing a bother that the mimic didn't like. Over the next two days it would gently press for more information, appealing to the softer side of Saba that had, more or less, accepted it as a form of companion. But to no avail. Saba was set on her silence, and there was not changing it. Part of the mimic considered perhaps there was nothing more for her to tell, but its suspicion was much louder a voice. But what was there to do when the changeling simply refused to speak?

Not a damn thing, it would realize.

Its first dose of frustration, something it would come to hate. First time for that too. Hate, that is.

The witch's castle would make an imposing figure indeed against the violet backdrop of evening, the sun setting just behind it. Completely hewn from solid stone, it was more of a fortress than a palace, complete with ramparts and parapets like rooks on a chessboard. And it was menacing with the torchlight within its walls growing brighter, little balls of fiery light in what few narrow openings there were in the walls.

The terrain surrounding it was terrible, especially now that the sky was darkening. Sharp rocks and stern formations abounded as they drew closer still, pitfalls leading down sheer drops into unwelcoming ravines, into total darkness in some places. Even worse there didn't appear to any marked trails through to the castle, so they would have to press on at a snail's pace, unless of course they _wanted_ to chance snapping their necks by way of a single misstep.

Well, maybe not as serious as all that. Once the sun went down, and the hyena emerged, the others were inclined to follow her closely as she sniffed her way between the rocks and along an elusive, easy to miss trail. It wound and wove across the countryside for maybe a mile, its end bringing them almost right onto the witch's doorstep.

"This stinks already." Fang hissed in a whisper as they ducked behind a stone mass. "Look at that," the huntress shoved the moogle down to keep its bauble out of sight when it tried to hover a little higher.

"What's wrong?" Vanille peeked around the side.

"No guards, that's what's wrong. This place should be crawlin' with 'em."

"What would such a powerful witch need with guards?" Evaz inquired, its body bending in such a way that it somewhat...slithered to have a look around the rocks. "Hmm,"

"You see something?" the redhead looked down at the mimic.

"The archway is...decorated."

"Looks like a horse with a fat lip." Fang grumbled.

"But it has antlers. Big ones. And its green." Vanille had to squint to see clearly in this darkness.

"Just like everythin' else in this backwards place. In any case, maybe there's another way in."

"We will go and have a look." Both the mimic and the changeling would creep out from behind the rocks, skulking back into the shadows across the trail and disappearing completely. Though not before they saw the mimic shift into a likeness of the hyena.

Though the humes wouldn't have to wait long, as they would both return in a few short minutes. Turns out there was a sheer drop into a chasm on the rear side of the castle, so there was no getting in from that side. And Evaz divulged spotting a sentry of some kind walking the ramparts, though it couldn't make out if it was human or not, only that the figure looked stretched over a thin frame with a bulging head. I know, crazy sounding, but they went with it.

"That bein' the case, unless one of us can walk through walls," Fang looked back at her companions, discouraged, "the front door is our best bet. As much as I hate to say it."

"Couldn't Evaz turn into a bug or something and get inside?"

"A what?" the mimic looked at the younger hume with curiosity, its pale brows uneven. The hyena chuckled quietly.

"You know, like a fly or a roach. No one would notice you."

"And if we knew what these were, we'd be glad to do just that." it answered honestly. "But that is not the circumstance."

"We'll just have to take our chances." Fang shook her head, looking back towards the fortress gate. "Hope that one guard is all they got. How far off was he when ya saw him?"

"The guard should be on the far side of the castle by now. Slow walker." the mimic replied.

"Guess there's no time like the present then." And Fang jumped over their stone cover.

"But how are we supposed to get through the gate?" Vanille whimpered a little. Before she stepped out from behind the rocks, the moogle turned into the staff. Sure, neither were certain how the magic would work, but it was better than nothing.

For a moment, the mimic and the changeling looked at each other. "Do you know what a bug is?"

The hyena laughed again and crept out into the open, Evaz eventually following silently behind.

In a cheap attempt to make a long story short, they were caught. But you were expecting that.

By some moderately humorous whim of the gods, it would quickly be deduced that the green moose decor on the archway of the main gate wasn't just that. It was alive, fully so in spite of missing a body. Once our band drew close enough its big green eyes flew open, zeroed in on them, and opened its gaping maw to make such an awful racket. Sounding the alarm as it were. And it was a terrible bellowing that you could hear from one end of the Vinkus to the other if you tried. It just kept on and on, quite the feat considering it had no lungs to speak of.

It only got worse from there.

That one watchman came barreling along the ramparts, clumsily to a degree but barreling all the same, but he was no longer alone. A horde of flying monkeys tailed behind him. Their eyes weren't green like in the Emerald City, they were dark and shimmering with intelligence and purpose. They came diving over the walls at the same moment the front gates swung open and a single, monstrous looking cat came bounding out of them. All teeth and fury. Now, the vision of a battlefield so disgustingly _not_ in your own favor might give one pause. Typically. But Oerba Yun Fang was far from typical, and instead drew her lance with an excited smirk, ready and willing.

For a brief second, Vanille felt her resolve falter at the odds against them. The monkeys looked so _vicious_, never mind the tiger leading the charge. Still she clenched her jaw and pressed forward, feeling the staff somewhat buzz with energy. At least she hoped so as she caught sight of the watchman -who she could swear had something resembling a pumpkin for a head- on the ramparts create a bright light between his hands, gathering magic that he would eventually begin to hurl down on them from his place. Balls of fire and sparks.

The hyena darted forward, weaving between the bodies to reach the snarling tiger, an ego matching its human counterpart showing in the maneuver. The tiger was large, unnaturally so, and it met the hyena tooth and nail, snarling and snapping in tandem with its opponent.

Evaz neither retreated nor made attempts to attack as it drew into the conflict, monkeys beginning to swarm overhead. It seemed to wait, watching, looking for something in particular. An opportunity. One monkey dove at him, large saber-like fangs revealed, gripping hands out as it howled. The mimic opened its cloak to the animal, wrapping it up and holding tight as it struggled into stillness, swallowed. Pending a moment to digest, Evaz transformed into a perfectly colored copy. This allowed it to go somewhat ignored, giving it freedom to move about. Not feeling it the most opportune time to figure out flying, the mimic scurried on all fours through the teeming throngs towards the open gate of the castle. In fact it allowed the wings to drag limp against the ground, which must have given the watchmen the impression that the monkey was injured. A perfect chance to get in without delay.

Once within the walls, for a reason it didn't quite know, the mimic bolted for a nearby flight of stone stairs that spiraled upward, along the outside of one of the parapets. It would end with the battlements on one side and a door leading inside to the other. Evaz had to pause, wondering what would be the best course to take. Could it find the witch on its own? Should it stay and help? Indecision is another emotion it would come to dislike.

While the mimic mulled it over, the skirmish went on. Though the worst of it seemed to be settling on the biggest perceived threat, Fang, as every monkey able was trying its damnedest to pry her lance out of her hands. Easily half a dozen of them were in a tizzy over it, their grubby paws white knuckle tight on the weapon and wings flapping like mad. Fang could feel herself almost lifted off the ground with their combined efforts.

Vanille was having monkey problems too, which only seemed to worsen when she smacked one on the head with one hard swing of the staff. The poor thing got awfully pissy about it and called in all its buddies. Naturally they tried to take the staff away from her, not looking forward to getting hit with it again. When she didn't let go they went for her pigtails, pulling her hair thinking it would make her lose her grip. When that didn't work they knocked her feet out from under her and dragged her a ways across the dirt on her face. Still didn't work, much to the monkeys' surprise. Which, by surprise, I mean frenzy. The primates were just shy of biting the hume when she finally let go, and it wasn't due to any of their antagonism. The staff had begun to glow, the energy flowing through it threatening to burn her hands.

The relic seemed to come to life, hovering in the air for a moment, the monkeys scattering as it went suddenly upright and settled sharply on the ground. Light came spiraling out of the foot of the staff, forming an emerald circle of seals and symbols. The staff would sink into it, out of sight, and something else would rise up through the circle. A huddled, human seeming figure, but then those that saw it appear realized its size. As it straightened on two legs it reached nearly ten feet tall with jet black skin, but even that was all but forgotten when the being unveiled six powerful arms, blade like talons on each digit. A lithe but strong frame, grace and lethality commingled, sharp features enhancing ferocity. Glowing red and yellow eyes bulged, tusks flashed as the jaw open wide and the being shrieked. The monkeys scattered, some of them freezing dead in their tracks, terrified under the gaze of this creature. The watchman on the ramparts broke and ran, crying out "Mom, mom, come quick!" all the way.

For a moment, all who saw it wondered what it was, where it had come from, but all that ceased once it began to move. All six arms flurried with motion, the hands gesturing wildly. It took one step forward, towards a petrified monkey, and then the poor thing just burst into a ball of fire when the arms and hands suddenly stilled, all of the talons in the monkey's direction.

Vanille cowered behind, eyes wide and shimmering with the glow of the flames, hands over her mouth to muffle a scream. By the gods, what had she done?

"Vanille!" Fang cried, jerking her lance away from the monkeys still trying to steal it. Then she swept the weapon it a wide circle to force back the horde. "Vanille, get outta there!" The huntress knew the magic had gone rampant, and being that close was far from safe. Fang broke into a healthy sprint to reach her, heart leaping into her throat as she saw the summoned creature turn on the younger woman. The small stretch of earth between them seemed miles long as Fang pushed herself faster, but not fast enough. She couldn't reach Vanille before the being she summoned let loose some sort of magic on the girl just before it blinked out of sight and disappeared, the staff rattling to the ground. Its terrible shriek cut the air one last time, echoed, and all that was left of it having been there...

Was a crystal statue.

"_Vanille_!"

Fang could feel her resolve, all cohesive thoughts dissolving as she collapsed to her knees beside the statue, the lance tumbling out her hands. _Oh gods, oh gods, what now? What do I do? What happened? No, this can't happen, this can't be happening..._

Then a peal of thunder cut the sky as if the lightning flashed just feet above their heads and a great billowing of red smoke appeared on the ramparts above the gate. With a single swirl of wind the smoke dispelled to reveal another dark figure, clad in black clothes and a stiff, steepled hat. All stray movement stopped, the mimic was nowhere to be seen, no monkey dared flinch, the tiger held the hyena down with its great paw, and all eyes looked on the keeper of Kiamo Ko. The Wicked Witch of the West.

But Fang would find no reverence, no horror, not even disgust at the sight of her. But the keenest fury she could remember swelled up right from the pit of her stomach and filled her to the brim. She lost sight of everything but that shriveled bitch on the ramparts. Without a second thought she twisted to her feet, reclaimed her lance, and hurled it with every ounce of oomph she could muster. The blades sang as it flew through the air, a raptor's cry, and for the moment Fang was certain of her mark. But then it stopped mid-flight, inches from cleaving into the hag's chest. The witch hadn't moved at all, not even a finger, and the weapon had simply gone still. And as the huffing breath of disbelief left her, Fang watched with widened eyes as the lance struck the ground.

If she wasn't mad already, she most certainly was now. Furious in fact. All rationale went to the wayside, the huntress now stuck in the state of seeing red. Though that metaphor would be made quite real as the Oerban openly charged the gates like a fool and the witch responded. A brilliant flash of red light would be the last thing she was aware of, maybe a loud bang that rang in her ears for all of a second, then nothing.

Fang would come to perhaps hours later, propped up against a wall. There was no sign of daylight, though she wasn't in darkness. Torchlight, plentiful in the stone chamber she found herself in as she blinked her blurred vision clear. Voices numbering in the dozens bounced off the walls, the room more than large enough to hold them all. She was surrounded by animals and men, all of them seeming to tower over her in her mild confusion as well as ignore her completely. Out of instinct she moved, but her body didn't obey. Instead of rising to her feet, her shoulders jerked at a vicious charge of pain that crackled up her spine.

"Best you lie still but a moment longer."

Fang glared at the mimic as it came into focus, kneeling in front of her. "The hell did you spirit off to?" she growled, voice roughened with discomfort.

"We were..." it paused, perhaps uncomfortable in having to come up with an excuse, "...distracted. But we found the witch."

Fang's brow flattened over her eyes. "No shit."

"No. None of that."

Dear gods above, she wanted to sock the mimic in the puss so bad. Instead she slowly winced, swallowing hard. Her throat felt so dry. "Surprised the hag didn't blow us all to kingdom come."

"That doesn't sound pleasant."

"It isn't supposed to. Why'd she let us live?"

"Well, we suppose she is not as wicked as we have been led to believe. Perhaps the wizard was lying."

"Never put it passed him not to." the wizard had been far too giving of his help and information. Which was always a red flag for the huntress. Though a part of her had hoped that wouldn't be the case. So much for that. "Still, what makes ya think he was?"

"The witch allowed us an audience," it thought back, looking away briefly. "Her story differs from that of the wizard."

"I can imagine." she sniffed, almost smirking.

"She says, like us, she is not from this place and that the wizard is a con artist."

"Obviously someone's tellin' a tale. Gonna be fun figurin' out who...what about chuckles?"

"Saba is..." a long pause, "is there a stronger word for angry?"

"Furious." off the top of her head.

"Then she is furious. For safety's sake -so they say- they have put her in a muzzle until dawn."

Fang laughed. "Then furious is a good word."

"Why is that funny?"

She could feel the mimic's eyes on her, and it made her flinch. Though she didn't know why. "Just a hint of sarcasm. Didn't mean anythin' by it."

Funny how the mimic didn't seem to buy it. "But Vanille remains a statue."

"Gods," Fang deflated, "I was hopin' ya wouldn't say that." Part of her had been praying it was all just some bad dream, that she'd eventually wake up back in Oerba among the sunshine and flowers. It made her a bit sick.

"However," it continued, "the witch thinks she may be able to help. If one thing the wizard said was honest, it was that she does indeed possess a bend of the rainbow."

"What makes ya think she would?"

"We don't know, though I doubt she would do it as a favor. Nothing in Oz is free."

"So I've heard." a heavy shrug. " A fine mess we've gotten ourselves into, eh?"

"_You're_ the one who can't move." Evaz corrected. "Though we are to understand it will wear off...given time." and it took her wrist and lifted it, finding it still limp, and then let it drop. "We hope."

"Was that your idea of a joke?"

"Was it funny?"

"No."

And then the mimic chuckled. Then its brows lifted. "Ah. We get it now."

Fang would've commented on just how hard the mimic could go suck an egg, but silenced herself when a shadow stretched over the two of them, causing her to look up.

The huntress would later admit that the Witch of the West looked nothing like she expected. Old and shriveled, yes -which she wasn't too far off the mark- but she certainly had in mind someone far uglier. Maybe even go so far as to consider off colored skin and a hooked nose, perhaps a wart or two. It was almost disappointing how...normal the witch appeared to be. Honest yet drawn features, deep lines around the eyes and mouth, heavy blue eyes. And silver hair tied into long braids that fell over her shoulders and onto her chest. A lion's pelt covered one shoulder, wrapped at an angle, its head resting against one breast, a creased and faded red ribbon in its mane. Boney hands rest atop a wooden walking stick, and the witch looked down at Fang with nothing readable about her expression.

"Evening." the witch's voice was almost motherly.

"Likewise." Fang nodded loosely. "So is this the part where ya off me?"

"That depends on how you answer my question." still no quirk to her countenance, no inflection to belie intent. "Are you agents of the wizard?"

"He asked us to get his bauble back, that's all. Well, and to get you out of his hair. It's nothin' personal, lady, we're just tryin' t'get back home."

"Ah," the witch then grinned slightly, a mild curl to edge of her mouth. "I understand. So it's true what your mimic said, that you're not from Oz?"

"Yeah. Said the same about you, too."

"It's true. And the wizard convinced you I had something you needed to get back to wherever you came from?"

She nodded carefully. "So who's the better liar, you or him?"

"Oh, don't misunderstand, we're both quite good at. Though the wizard does it much more readily than I. However...I'm guessing he sent you for the bend of the rainbow, didn't he?"

"You guessed it."

"It wasn't much of a guess, considering that's what they always come for."

"They?"

"You think you're the first?" another smirk, genuine amusement. "Heavens, you really _aren't_ from here."

"Got no reason to lie."

"Of course you do, everyone does. Still, besides that," a little chuckle, a glance shying away momentarily before centering again. "I saw what happened to the girl after she summoned the creature."

"Can you help her?"

"I might."

"I'll give ya anything."

The witch's thin white brows raised. "And so readily too, that's a surprise. Though I might not have any need of you presently...tell me, has Chaos touched you?"

One dusky brow sharpened. "What do you know about Chaos?"

"Plenty."

Then her brow furrowed. "Who are you? Really?"

"Suppose I was a bit rude not to properly introduce myself before...few actually live long enough for to get to this part, but...Chaos brought me to Oz and has since refused to let me leave. My name is Dorothy Gale, and I'm from a place called Kansas. "

Author's Note: So yeah, over a week late and this is all I got. Bummer. Feedback's been awful quiet so its been a little difficult for me to get the oomph I need to work on this, never mind finding the time between work and school. Anyway, I'm trying to get the plot moving again, which I likely will next chapter after some expose where we learn a little more about the witches and wizards of Oz. You can check out art for this fic on my DA, including all of the summons inspired by the project, and don't be afraid to drop some constructive criticism or comments if it pleases you.


	8. Chapter 7

**Lords of Chaos**

**Chapter Seven**

_Crows are like children. Far too many, far too loud, and far too nosy._

"Chaos touches everyone differently, I imagine. And from what I can tell, it turned you folks backwards." the witch waved her hand, releasing the minor hex on the Pulsian native before offering to help her stand.

"How do ya figure?" Fang could still feel stiffness in her muscles, though now they worked at least.

"Well, in truth, I'm only seventeen, but look at me." Dorothy chuckled dryly. "And then there's the wizard...I don't suppose you've seen his real face?"

"Doubtful."

"Trust me, he didn't fare much better with it."

"How can ya tell we've come in contact with it?"

"By looking at you. I can see a bit of...blackness about you lot, like shadows. Though now I don't see them around your friend," she nodded to the crystal statue situated near the middle of the room. "Leaves me to guess the creature she summoned somehow altered its hold on her."

Fang swallowed. "Can you do anythin'?"

"I might. I've tried lots of things to turn myself back to normal, but none of them have worked. I don't believe you'll object to me trying?"

Naturally not, and the huntress shook her head to confirm that.

Dorothy gave one curt nod. "Then let's have a look." and she began to circle the statue, contemplative, thinking. Fang simply watched, her features creased, the mimic standing beside her and harboring a similar expression. She watched the witch like a hawk, anxious, fighting the quiet urge to chew her fingernails.

"I don't know much about this rainbow of yours," Dorothy continued, "but I do know that the bends and Chaos are closely connected. Maybe they're pieces of it or something of the like. So, if that's the case, I may be able to restore the Chaos that was on your friend."

Fang crossed her arms, brow knitted. _Anything, gods, just let me have her back._

"Let me see," and she finally paused, still regarding the statue. One fragile looking hand tucked into the folds of her black dress, tugging slightly upward. Fang's eyes dropped, catching a crimson glimmer in the torchlight. Ruby shoes that began to glow and shimmer with power. The light grew to surround the witch from head to toe, the light seeming to focus mostly on the outstretched hand she held towards the crystal statue. The light continued to writhe around her as if alive, swelling and churning before it leaped from her hand and spilled over the statue. By now most of those in the chamber had turned to watch, all with bated breath in marvel of the witch's power.

The crystal dimmed, softened, and eventually returned to its previous state.

Vanille remembered shying away from the creature. Remembered that brief, ripping terror that swept through her as she retreated, her weight shift back and out of her control. She knew she had shut her eyes, arms raising to defend herself, but she had no recollection of having ever ended up in the room she now found herself. The threat of the creature she had called upon all but disappeared, replaced with confusion.

"Oh my," she breathed, palms on the floor to support her now sitting position.

"Opo-po!" from across the room the moogle popped back into shape and darted between the throng of bodies to reach the girl, tittering on and on as if worried. In spite of its fussing, Vanille made it to her feet, all the while assuring the sprite she was fine. The moogle only stopped when Fang stepped between it and took Vanille up in her arms.

"You all right?"

"I'm fine. What happened?"

"Don't really know myself," Fang took a half step back, shaking her head. "At the least we ain't dead yet, that's somethin'."

Vanille's face then creased with concern, much like Fang's. "I didn't even know I could do something like that...that poor monkey."

"So you mean," the witch stepped in gently, "the wizard didn't hire you for your magic?"

"The wizard gave it to me, actually." Vanille answered.

"I see now," a slow nod. "That could be why it backfired. Perhaps he intended for it to fail...for _you _to fail. Safe to say I don't think he intends for you to return to the city."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Fang quirked her brow. "But we can't stay away, we'll never get home just skirtin' around."

"Then maybe you should change sides."

Fang glared at the witch, so suspicious. "And how am I supposed to believe you hocus pokers ain't just gonna plays us both ways so you don't have to get your hands dirty?"

"You're not. Besides, what other choice to do you have?"

"She's right." Evaz commented quietly. "Our options are too few."

"Yeah, but she could be tellin' a tale just as easy as the wizard. That spell could've backfired without the wizard foolin' with it."

"But she could've killed us at any time, right?" Vanille spoke up, though still somewhat hushed as the three of them circled together. "She didn't, and she even helped us. I think we should hear what she has to say."

Fang grumbled low, frustrated. This whole deal was getting rawer by the second and it was making her sick. Not to mention how everybody was somewhat against her distrust of the witch's intentions. But what can you do?

"Fine," she relented, but the word sounded forced. "But if shit goes south, I get to say I told ya so."

"Very well," Dorothy sighed. "Come and sit, we'll talk a while."

They would retreat to an adjacent, more quiet room. Books on shelves lined the walls, some odds and ends that appeared ideal for concocting and brewing whatever a witch might need to reach her ends littered a pair of tables near the wall. On the far side was a great opening in the wall, looking out over the desolate valley surrounding the castle, with the mountains on a distant horizon. A congress of monkeys lined up on the ledge. At the center of the room was a great crystal ball, immaculate and massive as it sat in its gilded cradle.

There were a few chairs in the room, one more so a throne than just a place to sit. Though there weren't enough for everyone, Evaz was more than content to shape its cloak into a rigid sort of stool beneath it. Almost looked like the mimic just floated there. Dorothy took the more comfortable seat, the throne being cushioned and well broken in by its previous owner.

"Where to begin." she sighed. "I first came to Oz when a twister picked up my house and dropped it on the Wicked Witch of the East. That's where I got these damn slippers." Dorothy propped her cheek against her knuckles, leaning to the side. "Then Galinda the Good sent me off to see the wizard." and she continued with a seemingly condensed citation of her journey along the Yellow Brick Road from Munchkinland. Although the abridging wavered when she considered her encounters with a living scarecrow, a talking lion, and a man made of tin they had discovered frozen with rust in the woods. Even her expression changed, sentimentality softening the heavy lines in her face. Though the alteration was brief.

"The wizard said he would send me back to Kansas if my friends and I could destroy the Wicked Witch of the West...and we skipped merrily along to our fate as if we'd been off to a Sunday picnic." she continued with an honest shrug. "Mind you this was all before I knew the bends even existed...still...the wizard offered to take me back home on his hot air balloon. However there were...mishaps. The wizard turned on me, the only thing I could do was run. You see I was a rather meek child, I was too afraid to do anything else. I found my way back here and Galinda showed me another way home by using the slippers...and again there were...mishaps."

The memory was still a little vague. Perhaps not so much vague as it was jumbled. So much seemed to happen at once the moment Chaos touched Dorothy, the ruby slippers having sent her through Todash as she clicked the heels and chanted.

_There's no place like home. There's no place like home._

But Chaos had other ideas.

"Next thing I'm aware of is being back in this room as you see me now, terrified," her eyes closed, a drawn sigh easing out as her chest receded. "Galinda, the scarecrow, the tin man...all gone. And the lion," she stroked the mane resting at her shoulder, brows drawing together. "Galinda would come back in time, tell me what had become of Oz. The wizard, that is. While away on his balloon, Chaos had touched him as well, given him a bend of the rainbow, and put him to work finding the few others that were to be found here.

"A witch named Mombi had the brown bend. The old bastard stuck it in one of those ghastly suits of armor he has littering the palace. I've never seen it for myself, but rumors in the city say it'll spring to life and kill at the wizard's command. Then there's the green one, which the wizard keeps himself...stuck in his own head if you can believe it."

"At this rate, sure," Fang sniffed, an empty laugh.

"Galinda had the one sometimes called the grapefruit. It's pink I suppose. Never seen it for myself, still...after he dispatched the scarecrow the wizard...remade him into something else and brought him to life with the bend." her gaze grew distant, more so than when she began her tale. "Replaced his straw with crow feathers and filth...stuck his own eye in his head so that he could see _everything_...then blamed it on me-ah, the witch I mean. He told the people of Oz that I was dead, the witch having destroyed me and the others, but put his _watcher_ on display for them so they would still feel safe. Everything went down from there. Way down."

"How did he get the pink one if Galinda had it?" Vanille asked cautiously, thinking the question might have been too personal.

"I don't know how, but he managed to imprison Galinda...tortured her for days for information about me and the bends...later I would find out that in the end she would give it to him simply because he asked." Dorothy almost grinned at the shocked look on the hume's faces. She didn't regard the mimic as it had no visible face to read. "The wizard had melted the tin man down, made some sort of...helmet or something out of him and put a...curse on it. So long as you wear it...you have no heart. No feelings. That's how he must have done it. Then he killed Galinda...and blamed it on me. After that, my only choice was to take on the guise of the witch and wait. It turned out better than I thought, then again, the wizard made his own mess."

And she was right. Approval of the wizard would steadily decline, many people -mostly the youth- leaving the Emerald City altogether to eventually rally to the witch's side. After them were the Animals (those that could speak) who the wizard was slowly working the laws to discriminate against. And it went on and on from there. Now only those that remained were those thoroughly convinced, rather fooled, that the wizard was still on their side and not his own.

"Chaos has seeped into the land of Oz, changing it into something else right under the people's noses. Mostly in the dark places, like the deep forests, but still...that's just the beginning."

Fang and Vanille looked at each other, thinking the same thing. That creature they encountered in the woods. Chaos had changed it into that teeming mass.

"The wizard and I have been warring with each other for years now, though not directly as you can see. It's gotten us nearly nowhere. But I'm still winning."

"How do ya figure? Hidin' out here ain't exactly what I'd call advancing. More like breakin' even."

"The wizard has only ever been afraid of two things; being exposed as a con man, and the true heir to the throne of the Emerald City. Both of which I can provide."

"Fancy that," Fang nodded. "Please, tell me it ain't that pumpkin headed fella we saw."

"Goodness no," Dorothy laughed a little.

"Why does he call you mom?" Vanille wondered aloud, though not cautious at all now.

"I suppose I resemble his mother, I honestly don't know for sure. He's a little dim, helpful...clumsy sometimes...he's been with me since I started working against the wizard. Him and his young friend Tip."

"A castle full of kids and refugee's...not really an army." Fang shook her head.

"Well, that was step two...but right now I still have the upper hand. You wouldn't believe the uproar in the city once the wizard realized he had let the boy slip right out from under him."

"Is the boy a slug?" Evaz wondered, genuinely curious.

Dorothy gawked at him, her eyes shifting to the humes as if begging a question.

"It's new to the whole...everything." Fang slid her eyes in the mimic's direction. "So what do you mean?"

"From what Jack -the pumpkin man- told me, he and Tip ran away from Mombi just before the wizard came for her. To be honest, I don't think the wizard would have known what he had...but I'm glad I didn't have to test that. But Chaos has touched him somehow, maybe hides him from the wizard and his agents."

"First good thing that black mess has done. So why do you wanna take out the wizard anyway? We were in the Emerald City and it didn't seem so bad."

"It wasn't so bad because the wizard had need of you." Dorothy assured the huntress. "The moment your usefulness ends, that will change. As it changes for any Ozian that refuses to cling to his knickers. Some of them managed to make it here to me...only to tell me stories of the ones who didn't."

"But I thought you couldn't kill in Oz." Vanille's brows raised, slight curiosity in her tone.

"Only if someone's watching. If that's the case, then you get a one way ticket to the prison Oz made out of Galinda's palace in Quadling Country. Horrible place from what I hear. But the point is, Oz is killing his kingdom, and I'm the only one who can stop him."

"But your current numbers aren't nearly enough."

"Indeed. Though, if I could get into that prison I would have an army big enough to storm a city, all of them with a score to settle."

"Ha!" Fang laughed, "And that's where I say good luck!"

"Fang,"

"What? I see what she's gettin' at," the huntress looked to her partner. "We ain't here to fight a war, we got our own problems."

"But," Evaz interjected gently, "both sides have something we need. Our only choice here is which side we are on."

"Opo-po,"

Fang cut her gaze to the imp, eyes narrow. "Says you."

"Says me too," Vanille added. "Evaz is right. And considering where we stand, I think the choice is obvious. If we go back, the wizard will just kill us."

"Yeah, and if we stay here, _she'll_ do it once we've bumped ol' high 'n mighty off his chair."

Dorothy didn't respond right away as her guests looked at her, waiting for a retort of some kind. She closed her eyes with a sigh and then laughed a little. "It's a fair assumption, I won't deny it...but I just want to get out of Oz, like you. I can't do that until I know this land is safe. I believe that's why I was sent back." she opened her eyes and straightened, slightly hunched forward with her hands in her lap. "Please help me. I know we have no reason to trust one another, but I'm willing to take that risk. Oz deserves to be free just as much as we deserve to go home."

"Bah," Fang stood up, throwing her hands in dismissal as she stalked away, towards the great opening in the wall. Vanille mimicked the motion only so far as to stand, and just started to move to follow but paused. She turned back to look at Dorothy, her expression apologetic and beckoning for a moment. There had to be a way to salvage this.

Monkeys scattered from the ledge as the humes approached, their shapes disappearing into the dark. Vanille could see tightness in Fang's shoulders as she crossed her arms, saw strength in the way her slender fingers curled into her biceps.

"What?" Fang snipped, sensing Vanille behind her.

"Why are you being so suspicious?"

"Why _aren't_ you? What makes her word any better than the wizard's? If ya ask me we're bein' played."

Vanille shrugged, shifting carefully to Fang's side. "What difference does it make? Really? We can't go back to the wizard without proof of killing the wi...Dorothy, and if we do nothing, he'll likely send someone after us. We. Are. _Stuck_ here until we get the bends."

Fang's fingers drummed against her arm, her brow furrowing. "It's just...too damn easy. Almost like this shit's just fallin' in our laps. It should've been harder to find these things, now we've got two folks sayin' they'll just hand 'em over."

"But it's not easy at all. Look at what we're having to go through to get them."

"Yeah," Fang actually grinned, her chin dipping. "We're gonna have blood on our hands either way. Just a question of whose,"

Vanille didn't like the sound of that, but it was the truth of things.

"I know your reasons, and I understand," the huntress continued, frustration banked, "but it still don't seem right."

"None of this is right," Vanille shook her head with a mild sigh. "But here we are anyway."

"True enough. Ya seem like your mind's made up, and I can't have ya goin' about on your own. Still don't like it, though."

"Since when have we ever _liked_ it?" there was sarcasm in her breathy chuckle.

"Also true," the huntress nodded. "But why so trusting? I mean, both of 'em can't be tellin' the truth."

"Well, no..." she paused, thinking, getting the words together. "Can't you see she's homesick? Just like us? And there's no illusion, no smoke and mirrors. She's not trying to convince us of anything or making demands...just telling her story and waiting for our answer."

Fang took a long moment to consider her reasoning, fingers still thrumming her arm. Now that Vanille had pointed the details out, things started making a little more sense. True, there was no denying both the wizard and Dorothy were out to use them. That was just the state of the matter. But Dorothy was making no great displays of power aside from what little expenditure she made to push them back at the gate. She was just defending herself. The wizard, from the start, made out to either impress or intimidate them with his magic, lending to the notion that perhaps he was more afraid of them than he let on. He was afraid of his kingdom, of his people, and so he sought to control them before they got too strong by collecting all of the bends for himself. All the while trying to keep up the pretense that he was on the side of good.

Like two wolves and a sheep trying to decide what's for dinner.

Fang shrugged. "All right then." She turned on her heel and went casually back to resume her seat, one leg crossing the other, Vanille following close behind, seemingly relieved. "So what do we know about this prison?"

Dorothy relaxed into the chair, sighing with what seemed like relief, and one hand touching the mane of the pelt.

_(-)_

Jack Pumpkinhead never needed to sleep. He was not really living, so that should come as no surprise. He was made up of dried slats of wood and roots, and naturally a hollowed out and bright orange gourd sitting atop the stick that was his neck. Half his face was missing from a spell gone awry, but it didn't seem to bother him, his original carved smile still intact in spite of it. Not that he could change his expression anyway. It was qualities like these that made him ideal to keep watch and patrol the castle.

On the other hand, he had so many things about him that tricked you to think he was living. He could see though he had no real eyes, hear without ears, speak, feel the things he touched with his knotted root fingers, and he understood emotions with an almost childlike awkwardness. One he had down pat was fear, his reaction to it so human it was unnerving. Patrolling the lower halls of Kiamo Ko, more accurately the dungeon, he would get quite the shock. The only reason he was down here anyway was because of the underground river than ran below, the mouth of it at the farthest end of the system of passages, just wide enough for someone to infiltrate. Otherwise he would prefer to have not been here. It gave the golem the creeps.

Keeping to one side of the halls he would check all the cell doors, making sure they were shut as he made his way to the end. There would be no trace of anyone at the mouth of the river, no trace of magic either, so Jack turned and started back, going down the opposite side of the corridor than when he came. He was nearly to the stairwell leading out of the dungeon when he checked the last cell, only to have a clawed and furred hand reach out and snatch him by the collar. He shrieked, the gourd actually stretching downward with his fright, arms flailing and feet stomping in an awkward attempt to run away. And all the while the occupant of the cell snarled and roared at him angrily, all in some tongue he didn't understand. If the gourd could comprehend native Pulsian he would surely blush at the expletives the changeling -now human- was spewing at him.

Saba nearly shook the poor fellow to pieces before he tore free of her enraged grip. He ran screaming for his mother up the stairwell, the echoes of Saba's ranting nipping at his heels. Jack would not come back, not any time soon, though the mimic would appear some few minutes later. The witch had surrendered the keys to the cell once convinced it would be safest for Evaz to go. With little hurry but little delay the mimic unlocked the door, careful to proceed as something heavy flew passed its head by mere inches once the opening was large enough. It was chunk of solid stone the changeling must have pulled out of the wall.

Evaz chanced to shift into the doorway. "It is only us."

Saba came skulking out of the cell and into the glow of torches, shoulders tight and hunched forward, fists clenched. Grunting and huffing something in her mother tongue.

"We have brought your clothes." it pulled the garments from its cloak and held them out, not at all surprised when Saba snatched them up with a harsh grip. She looked so angry, more so than it had ever seen her.

"Motherless bastards put me in a muzzle, _me_! The eldest daughter of Lor, _a queen_!" she continued snarling, jerking the clothes over head. "Wait until I find that empty headed...I'm not an animal!"

"They do not know that, they only knew what they saw."

"And in a land as strange as this, such foolishness should be a crime!"

"Should you expect them to be so understanding? Or be so upset that they are not?"

Saba simply glared at him, her yellowed eye centered for a change and just as sharp as the other. Maybe deep down she knew the mimic made plenty of sense, but she certainly didn't like it.

"Regardless," it continued with mild caution, "we think it best you calm yourself. We are guests here."

"What?"

"The humes have cast our lot in with the witch."

Saba didn't look surprised, more puzzled and contemplative. But she was just thinking, realizing the wizard had indeed been right. The witch had turned them against him, but not her. Saba would not be swayed.

"You disapprove?"

"Hmph." she reacted almost too quickly. "That is their choice. They clearly do not care what we think, so no use in complaining."

Evaz's brow quirked. "That is...complacent of you. Do you not have reason to argue?"

"They would not listen."

"We would."

Saba's expression softened, as if she felt remorse over something. Then a subtle smile turned the corner of her mouth. "Had I an argument, I would tell you all about it. Now come along, I wish to be out of this stinking darkness." On the one hand because she was sick of it was in need of the warm sunshine, and on the other she was certain the wizard's agents must be nearby.

In fact they were, though it would be four days before she would see them at all, much less realize what they were. Four days of pretending to appreciate the generosity of the witch while trying not to let on that she knew Dorothy was paying particular attention to her. The witch was watching them all very closely, but Saba felt as though she was being singled out and that the others were none the wiser of her discretion. Though it came as no surprise, not once did she try and fool herself into thinking the Wicked Witch hadn't the brains enough to be suspicious. Doubly so after the changeling became aware of Tip. Though Saba would spend little more than minutes at a time with the young boy in her presence, she knew the witch was likely on to her. The old hag just didn't know what she was up to.

Those four days later, our group would accompany some of Dorothy's men back to Broken Bottle, the town full of Wicked sympathizers that often gave food and other supplies. Returning to the castle Saba would take notice of a crow ghosting the trail, keeping neither too close nor too far away. It would disappear entirely once Kiamo Ko came into view, the changeling not realizing it had swooped down and hidden away on the cartload of supplies rolling beside her. Doing so allowed the bird to go completely unnoticed by the Gump's head watching the gate as well as any wards the witch might have put in place to keep creatures such as it out. And though it was in the middle of the day, no one would see the damn thing for a number of hours as it perched in a dozen places around the castle, watching the goings on at its clandestine leisure with its beady green eyes.

By the time anyone was aware of it, it was far too late.

The Tiger, sometimes called Hungry for his habit of wanting to eat fat babies, would smell something odd as he lay in the main chamber near Dorothy's chair. She noticed him sniffing about, his amber eyes curious, then she caught the flight of small black shape in the corner of her eye. She jumped from her seat, spotting it. Her reaction was immediate, calling the power of the ruby slippers into her hand to hurl a sphere of light at the bird which burst into a cloud of black feathers with a final squawk.

"Who let that damn thing in here?!" there was dread in the shouting, as Dorothy knew. She knew damn good and well what the bird had been doing here.

Everything in the chamber stilled, Animals and humans all in tandem, all eyes split between the pile of feathers amongst the scorch marks and the witch. There was no time to answer, that one crow being the beginning of an incredible chain reaction. Whatever might have been uttered in response died under the commotion of breaking glass from all corners of the chamber. The windows caved inward, more crows having popped them out with their own force of flight. The impact broke their necks, but allowed an opening for hundreds more to start pouring in. A maelstrom of black feathers and screeching beaks filled the chamber as the birds circled the ceiling, their numbers now countless. Some reacted immediately to their threat, weapons ready and conjuring spells at top speeds, while most simply cowered, screams cutting the air as the birds descended on them.

It was happening so fast, mere seconds passed before the chamber was reduced to a teeming mass of bodies.

"Tip! Tip where are you?!" Dorothy cried, shaking a crow from her shoulder. "Someone find Tip, you must protect him!"

Saba heard it over the din, through the screaming of men torn apart by crows, and tucked out of sight. That was her cue. She would find him easily, following his scent well enough in spite of all the bodies and different smells throughout the castle. The boy would be heading for the main chamber from gods knew where, maybe a study as he had a book tucked under his arm. Saba put on the guise of urgency as she sprinted towards him.

"The wizard has come, the witch tasked me to hide you."

"The wizard? I have to help Dorothy!"

"No, boy, you must be kept safe. Is there a place for you?"

Tip looked at the changeling in a peculiar way, as if he too was aware of something not quite right. Still, "Follow me."

Just behind him Saba would follow, swiftly as she could hear the screeching of crows drawing closer even as the two of them fled. Tip would go outside, onto the battlements sprinting for the western parapet. He was the only one in the castle to keep the key to its one door, a safety measure to ensure no one else could enter. As the boy fished the brass trinket from his pocket, the changeling eased up behind him, her shadow hidden in his own, and shoved him face first into the heavy wooden door. It snapped his nose and put him out cold.

Saba's heart thundered in her chest as she looked at the boy, having an odd sense of hesitation that she most certainly didn't like. She had chosen this path, it had to be seen to its end. She looked up, seeing even more crows circling above in perfect formation.

"The wizard sent you," she shouted up to them, "now come down here and take what you've come for!"

The circle of crows slowly closed tighter and tighter, one by one each of them coming down to perch. Saba watched the last of them, her gaze following it closely, and as her vision became level, she became aware of the Watcher now standing before her. His stitched smile stretched across his face, wiry arms bent behind him.

"Ah, good doggy, you've done as you were told." then it held out one hand, long root fingers curling. "Bring him to me."

Saba grimaced at the creature. "What of the bargain? Will you change me back, make me what I was?"

"Hah, only the wizard can keep his own word. If you can make it back to the city alive, I'm _sure_ he'll do just that. Now. The boy."

Her grimace grew wary, brow knitting. Maybe, just now, she was beginning to feel like this hadn't been the best path to take.

"No. I will deliver him myself."

"I'm afraid," that sewn-in grin stretched a little wider, "_that_ is not an option." The Watcher revealed his other hand, what looked to be a staff curled tight in the roots of his fingers. With one stiff motion and the creak of the wood in his body he smacked the flagstones with the end of the staff. With a wicked groan and the shriek of steel a blade slid upward, a serrated scythe glimmering in the sunlight.

"One last time, doggy," his one eye narrowed on the changeling. "Give. Me. The _boy_."

Saba's body tightened, shoulders hunching and fingers viciously poised. "No." A simple enough response.

"Have it your way then."

Saba was ready for the blade, ready to hear it sing as it cut the air, but she wasn't expecting the crows or how they came upon her like a dark wave.

Author's Note: I think I'm on a bi-weekly schedule with this one, folks. As if the few of you who are reading this may have noticed. As poorly as this is turning out, I have to finish it, I can't quit after all this. In any case, it will be strong where it counts, the rest is -by some odd measure- inconsequential. I really don't know what's happening, or why it's been so difficult to write this, but I'm not quitting. I have to finish. All that aside, next chapter we'll see how Saba's encounter with Watcher turns out, and how her alliance with Fang and the others will hold once her secret council with the wizard is revealed.


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